This
book is a free gift of Dhamma and may not be offered for sale, for as the
Venerable Acariya Maha Boowa has said,
"Dhamma has a value beyond all
wealth and should not be sold like goods in a market place."

Reproduction of this book in whole or in part, by any means, for sale or
material gain, is prohibited. Permission to reprint in whole or in part
for free distribution as a gift of Dhamma, however, is hereby granted, and
no further permission need be obtained. You may re-format and redistribute
this work for use on computers and computer networks provided that you
charge no fees for its distribution or use.

"Just
as if there were a pool of water in a mountain glen -- clear,
limpid, and unsullied -- where a man with good eyes standing on
the bank could see shells, gravel, and pebbles, and also shoals of
fish swimming about and resting, and it would occur to him, 'This
pool of water is clear, limpid, and unsullied. Here are these
shells, gravel, and pebbles, and also these shoals of fish
swimming about and resting;' so too, the monk discerns as it
actually is, that 'This is stress... This is the origin of
stress... This is the stopping of stress... This is the way
leading to the stopping of stress... These are mental effluents...
This is the origin of mental effluents... This is the stopping of
mental effluents... This is the way leading to the stopping of
mental effluents.' His heart, thus knowing, thus seeing, is
released from the effluent of sensuality, released from the
effluent of becoming, released from the effluent of unawareness.
With release, there is the knowledge, 'Released.' He discerns
that, 'Birth is no more, the holy life is fulfilled, the task
done. There is nothing further for this world.'

"This, great king, is a reward of the contemplative life, visible
here and now, more excellent than the previous ones and more
sublime. And as for another visible reward of the contemplative
life, higher and more sublime than this, there is none."

These
talks -- except for the first -- were originally given
extemporaneously to the monks at Venerable Acariya Maha Boowa's
monastery, Wat Pa Baan Taad, in Udorn Thani Province, Thailand. As
might be expected, they deal in part with issues particular to the
life of Buddist monks, but they also contain much that is of more
general interest. Since the monks who had assembled to listen to
these talks were at different stages in their practice, each talk
deals with a number of issues on a wide variety of levels. Thus
there should be something of use in these pages for every reader
interested in the training of the mind.

The
title of this collection is taken from a Pali term that, directly or
indirectly, forms the theme of a number of the talks:
yatha-bhuta-˝ana-dassana -- knowledge and vision of things as
they are. My hope is that these talks will aid and encourage the
reader in his or her own efforts to taste the liberation that comes
with the reality to which this term refers.

Today
I'd like to take the opportunity to tell you some of my own
ignorance and doubts, with the thought that we all come from the
land of ignorance and doubt inasmuch as our parents and their
ancestors before them were people with the defilements (kilesa)
that led them to ignorance as well. Even all of us here: There's
probably not a one of us who slipped through to be born in the land
of intelligence and freedom from doubt. This being the case, we all
must be subject to doubts. So today I'd like to take the opportunity
to resolve some of the issues that are on your minds by giving a
talk instead of answering the questions you have asked from the
standpoint of your various doubts, ranging from the most basic to
the highest levels -- which I'm not sure I can answer or not. But
the questions you have asked seem to follow so well on one another
that they can provide the framework for a talk instead of a
question-and-answer session.

Each of
us, before starting the practice and in the beginning stages of the
practice, is sure to suffer from ignorance and doubt, as these are
the qualities that lead to the states of becoming and birth into
which all living beings are born. When we lay the groundwork for the
beginning of the practice, we don't have enough starting capital for
intelligence to take the lead in every situation, and so ignorance
is sure to find an opening to take the lead. And as for this
ignorance: If we have never trained our intelligence to show us the
way, the ignorance that holds the upper hand in the heart is sure to
drag us in the wrong direction as a matter of course.

In the
beginning of my own training, I felt doubts about whether the
teachings of the Buddha -- both the practices to be followed and the
results to be obtained -- were as complete as he said they were.
This was an uncertainty that ran deep in my heart during the period
in which I was debating whether or not to practice for the really
high levels of Dhamma -- or, to put it bluntly, for the sake of
nibbana. Before I had considered practicing for the sake of
nibbana, these doubts hardly ever occurred to me, probably
because I hadn't yet aimed my compass in this direction. But after I
had ordained and studied the Dhamma -- and especially the life of
the Buddha, which was the story of his great renunciation leading to
his Awakening to the paths (magga), fruitions (phala),
and nibbana; and then the lives of the Noble Disciples who,
having heard the Dhamma from the Buddha, went off to practice in
various places until they too gained Awakening, becoming witnesses
to the truth of the Buddha and his teachings -- when I had studied
to this point, I felt a sense of faith and conviction, and wanted to
train myself to be like them.

But the
training that would make me be like them: How was I to follow it?
The Dhamma -- in other words, the practice that would lead the heart
to awaken to the higher levels of Dhamma like the Buddha and his
disciples: Would it still produce the same sorts of results or would
it be fruitless and simply lead to pointless hardship for those who
practiced it? Or would it still give the full results in line with
the well-taught teachings (svakkhata-dhamma)? This was my
primary doubt. But as for believing in the Buddha's Awakening and
that of his disciples, of this I was fully convinced in my way as an
ordinary run-of-the-mill person. The thing that formed a stumbling
block to me in the beginning stages was the doubt as to whether or
not the path of practice I would take, following the Buddha and his
disciples, would lead to the same point they had reached. Was it now
all overgrown with brambles and thorns? Had it changed into
something other than the Dhamma that leads away from suffering (niyyanika-dhamma),
even though the Buddha and his disciples had all followed this very
same path to the land of peace and security? This was my doubt
concerning the causes in the practice. As for the results of the
practice, I wondered whether the paths, fruitions, and nibbana
still existed as they had in the time of the Buddha. These doubts,
which ran deep in my heart, I couldn't tell to anyone else because I
felt there was no one who could resolve them for me and dispel them
from my heart.

This is
why I had my hopes constantly set on meeting Ven. Acariya Mun. Even
though I had never met him before, I had heard his reputation, which
had been spreading from Chieng Mai for quite some time, that he was
a monk of distinction. By and large, the people who would tell me
about him wouldn't speak of him in terms of the ordinary levels of
noble attainments. They'd all speak of his arahantship. This had me
convinced that when I had finished my studies in line with the vow I
had made, I'd have to make the effort to go out to practice and live
under his guidance so as to cut away the doubts running deep in my
heart at that time.

The vow
I had made to myself was that I would complete the third grade of
Pali studies. As for Dhamma studies, whether or not I would pass the
examinations was of no concern to me. As soon as I had passed the
third-level Pali exams, I'd go out to do nothing but practice. I'd
absolutely refuse to study or take the exams for the higher levels.
This was the vow I had made. So the aim of my education was the
third level of Pali studies. Whether it was my good or bad fortune,
though, I can't say, but I failed the Pali exams for two years, and
passed only on the third year. As for the three levels of Dhamma
studies, I ended up passing them all, because I was studying and
taking the examinations for both subjects together.

When I
went up to Chieng Mai, it so happened that Ven. Acariya Mun had been
invited by Ven. Chao Khun Dhammachedi of Udorn Thani to spend the
Rains Retreat (vassa) in Udorn, and so he had left his
seclusion and come to stay at Wat Chedi Luang in Chieng Mai at just
about the time of my arrival. As soon as I learned that he was
staying there, I was overwhelmed with joy. The next morning, when I
returned from my alms round, I learned from one of the other monks
that earlier that morning Ven. Acariya Mun had left for alms on that
path and had returned by the very same path. This made me even more
eager to see him. Even if I couldn't meet him face to face, I'd be
content just to have a glimpse of him before he left for Udorn Thani.

The
next morning before Ven. Acariya Mun went on his alms round, I
hurried out early for alms and then returned to my quarters. There I
kept watch along the path by which he would return, as I had been
told by the other monks, and before long I saw him coming. I hurried
to my quarters and peeked out of my hiding to catch a glimpse of
him, with the hunger that had come from having wanted to see him for
such a long time. And then I actually saw him. The moment I saw him,
a feeling of complete faith in him arose within me. I hadn't
wasted my birth as a human being, I thought, because I now
had seen an arahant. Even though no one had told me that he was
an arahant, my heart became firmly convinced the moment I saw him
that that was what he was. At the same time, a feeling of sudden
ecstasy hard to describe came over me, making my hair stand on end
-- even though he hadn't yet seen me with his physical eyes.

Not too
many days after that, he left Wat Chedi Luang to head for Udorn
Thani together with his students. As for me, I stayed on to study
there at Wat Chedi Luang. When I had passed my Pali exams, I
returned to Bangkok with the intention of heading out to practice
meditation in line with my vow, but when I reached Bangkok a senior
monk who out of his kindness wanted to help me further my Pali
studies told me to stay on. I tried to find some way to slip away,
in keeping with my intentions and my vow, because I felt that the
conditions of my vow had been met the moment I had passed my Pali
exams. Under no terms could I study for or take the next level of
Pali exams.

It's a
trait with me to value truthfulness. Once I've made a vow, I won't
break it. Even life I don't value as much as a vow. So now I had to
try to find some way or another to go out to practice. It so
happened during that period that the senior monk who was my teacher
was invited out to the provinces, so I got the chance to leave
Bangkok. Had he been there, it would have been difficult for me to
get away, because I was indebted to him in many ways and probably
would have felt such deference for him that I would have had
difficulty leaving. But as soon as I saw my chance, I decided to
make a vow that night, asking for an omen from the Dhamma that would
reinforce my determination in going out this time.

After I
had finished my chants, I made my vow, the gist of which was that if
my going out to meditate in line with my earlier vow would go
smoothly and fulfill my aspirations, I wanted an unusual vision to
appear to me, either in my meditation or in a dream. But if I
wouldn't get to go out to practice, or if having gone out I'd meet
with disappointment, I asked that the vision show the reason why I'd
be disappointed and dissatisfied. But if my going out was to fulfill
my aspirations, I asked that the vision be extraordinarily strange
and amazing. With that, I sat in meditation, but no visions appeared
during the long period I sat meditating, so I stopped to rest.

As soon
as I fell asleep, though, I dreamed that I was floating high in the
sky above a large metropolis. It wasn't Bangkok, but I don't know
what metropolis it was. It stretched as far as the eye could see and
was very impressive. I floated three times around the metropolis and
then returned to earth. As soon as I returned to earth, I woke up.
It was four a.m. I quickly got up with a feeling of fullness and
contentment in my heart, because while I had been floating around
the metropolis, I had seen many strange and amazing things that I
can't describe to you in detail. When I woke up, I felt happy,
cheerful, and very pleased with my vision, at the same time thinking
to myself that my hopes were sure to be fulfilled, because never
before had I seen such an amazing vision -- and at the same time, it
had coincided with my vow. So that night I really marveled at my
vision. The next morning, after my meal, I went to take leave of the
senior monk who was in charge of the monastery, and he willingly
gave permission for me to go.

From
there I set out for Nakhorn Ratchasima Province, where I spent the
rains in Cakkaraad District. I started practicing concentration (samadhi)
and was amazed at how my mind developed stillness and calm step by
step. I could clearly see my heart settle down in peace. After that
the senior monk who was my Pali teacher asked me to return to
Bangkok to continue my studies. He even had the kindness to come
after me, and then continued further out into the provinces. On the
way back he was going to have me accompany him to Bangkok. I really
felt in a bind, so I headed for Udorn Thani in order to find Ven.
Acariya Mun. The progress I had been making in concentration
practice, though, disappeared at my home village of Baan Taad. The
reason it disappeared was simply because I made a single klod. [1]
I hadn't even spent a full month at Baan Taad when I began to feel
that my mind wasn't settling down in concentration as snugly as it
had before. Sometimes I could get it to settle down, sometimes not.
Seeing that things didn't look promising and that I could only lose
by staying on, I quickly left.

In
coming from Nakhorn Ratchasima to Udorn Thani, my purpose had been
to catch up with Ven. Acariya Mun, who had spent the rains at Wat
Noan Nives, Udorn Thani. I didn't reach him in time, though, because
he had been invited to Sakon Nakhorn before my arrival, so I went on
to stay at Wat Thung Sawaang in Nong Khai for a little more than
three months.

In May
of that year, 1942, I left Nong Khai for the town of Sakon Nakhorn,
and from there went on to the monastery where Ven. Acariya Mun was
staying in Baan Khoak, Tong Khoam Township, Muang District, Sakon
Nakhorn Province. When I reached the monastery, I found him doing
walking meditation in the late evening dusk. 'Who's that?' he asked,
so I told him who I was. He then left his meditation path and went
to the meeting hall -- he was staying in a room there in the meeting
hall -- and conversed with me, showing a great deal of kindness and
compassion for the incredibly ignorant person who had come to seek
him out. He gave me a sermon that first evening, the gist of which
I'll relate to you as far as I can remember it. It's a message that
remains close to my heart to this day.

'You've
already studied a good deal,' he told me, 'at least enough to earn
the title of "Maha." Now I'm going to tell you something that I want
you take and think over. Don't go thinking that I underrate the
Dhamma of the Lord Buddha, but at the present moment no matter
how much of the Dhamma you've studied, it will serve no purpose
in keeping with your status as a scholar other than simply being
an obstacle to your meditation, because you won't be able to
resist dwelling on it and using it to take the measure of things
when you're trying to calm your heart. So for the sake of
convenience when fostering stillness in your heart, I want you to
take the Dhamma you've studied and put it away for the time being.
When the time comes for it to benefit you, it will all come
streaming in to blend perfectly with your practice. At the same
time, it will serve as a standard to which you should make the heart
conform. But for the time being, I don't want you to concern
yourself with the Dhamma you've studied at all. Whatever way you
make the mind still or use discernment (pa˝˝a) to investigate
the khandhas, I want you first to restrict yourself to the
sphere of the body, because all of the Dhamma in the texts points
to the body and mind, but the mind doesn't yet have any firm
evidence and so can't take the Dhamma learned from the texts and put
it to good use. The Dhamma will simply become allusions and labels
leading you to speculate elsewhere to the point where you become a
person with no foundations, because the mind is fixated on theory in
a manner that isn't the way of the Lord Buddha. So I want you to
take what I've said and think it over. If you set your mind on the
practice without retreating, the day will come when these words of
mine will impress themselves on your heart.' Of what I can remember
him saying that day, this is all I'll ask to tell for now.

I felt
an immediate sense of faith and conviction in him as soon as I saw
him face to face that night, both because of my conviction in the
Dhamma he was so kind to teach me, and because of the assistance he
gave in letting me stay under his guidance. I stayed with him with a
sense of contentment hard to describe -- but also with a stupidity
on my own part hard to describe as well. He himself was very kind,
helping me with the Dhamma every time I went to see him.

My
practice when I first went to stay with him was a matter of progress
and regress within the heart. My heart hardly ever settled down
firmly for a long period of time. The first rains I spent with him
was my ninth rains, in as much as I had spent my first seven rains
in study, and one rains in Nakhorn Ratchasima after starting to
practice. During that first rains with Ven. Acariya Mun, there was
nothing but progress and regress in the area of my concentration.
After the rains, I went up to stay on a mountain for more than two
months and then returned to be with him, my mind still progressing
and regressing in the same way. I couldn't figure out why it kept
regressing even though I was intent on practicing to the full extent
of my ability. Some nights I was unable to sleep all night long out
of fear that the mind would regress, and yet it would still manage
to regress. And especially when the mind was beginning to settle
down in stillness, I'd accelerate my efforts even more, out of fear
that it would regress as it had before -- and even then it would
regress on me. After a while it would progress again and then
regress again. When it had progressed, it would stay at that level
for only three days and then regress right before my eyes. This
disturbed me and made me wonder: Why was it able to regress? Was it
because I had let go of my meditation word? Perhaps my
mindfulness (sati) had lapsed at that point. So I made a note of
this and promised myself that no matter what, I would have to keep
the meditation word in charge of my mind at all times. Regardless of
where I would go, and regardless of whether I was in our out of
concentration -- even when I was sweeping the monastery compound or
doing any of my chores -- I wouldn't allow my mind to slip away from
buddho, the word I liked to repeat in my meditation.

At this
point, when the mind would settle down into stillness, if it could
continue to think of the meditation word buddho in that
stillness, I wouldn't let go of it. If the mind was going to regress
in any way, this was where I would have to know.

As soon
as I had taken note of this point and had made my promise, I started
repeating the word buddho. As I was repeating it, the mind
was able to settle down quickly, much more quickly than it had
before. It would let go of its meditation word only when it had
settled snugly into stillness. At that moment, whether or not I
would think buddho, the awareness of that stillness was
already solidly 'buddho' in and of itself. It wouldn't be
forming any thoughts at all. At that point I'd stop my repetition.
As soon as the mind made a move to withdraw -- in other words, as
soon as it rippled slightly -- I'd immediately start pumping the
meditation word back in again as a means of keeping the mind in
place. At the same time, I'd keep watch to see at what point the
mind would regress. I abandoned my concern for the progress or
regress of the mind. No matter how far the mind might progress or
regress, I wasn't willing to let go of my meditation word. Even if
the mind was going to regress, I'd let it regress, because when I
had been determined that it not regress, it had still regressed in
spite of my determination.

Now,
though, I felt no more concern for whether the mind would progress
or regress. I'd simply force it to be conscious of buddho.
I'd try to be aware of progress and regress only in terms of the
heart that had buddho in charge. This was where I would
know. This was where I would clearly see. This was the one spot
in which I'd place my confidence. I wouldn't have to concern myself
with progress or regress.

As time
passed, the mind that had once progressed and regressed didn't
regress. This was what made me realize: The fact that the
mind had kept regressing so often was because of a lapse in its
meditation word; mindfulness must have slipped away at that
moment for sure. So from that point on I kept my meditation word
continually in place. No matter where I'd go or where I'd stay, I
wouldn't let mindfulness lapse. Even if I was to be on the verge of
death, I wouldn't let mindfulness slip away from buddho. If
the mind was going to regress, this was the only place where I'd try
to know it. I wouldn't concern myself with the matter in any other
way. As a result, the mind was able to establish a foundation for
itself because of the meditation word buddho.

After
that came my second Rains Retreat with Ven. Acariya Mun. Before the
rains began, my mind felt still and firm in its concentration, with
no regressing at all. Even then, I refused to let go of my
meditation word. This kept up to the point where I was able to sit
in meditation without changing to any other position from early
night until dawn.

During
my second rains with Ven. Acariya Mun, I held to sitting in
meditation until dawn as more important than any other method in my
practice. After that I gradually eased back, as I came to see the
body as a tool that could wear out if I had no sense of moderation
in using it. Still, I found that accelerating my efforts by means of
sitting all night until dawn gave more energy to the heart than any
other method.

The
period in which I was sitting up all night until dawn was when I
gained clear comprehension of the feelings of pain that arise from
sitting in meditation for long periods of time, because the pain
that arose at that time was strange and exceptional in many ways.
The discernment that investigated so as to contend with the pain
kept at its work without flagging, until it was able to understand
the affairs of every sort of pain in the body -- which was a solid
mass of pain. At the same time, discernment was able to penetrate in
to know the feelings of the heart. This did a great deal to
strengthen my mindfulness, my discernment, and my courage in the
effort of the practice. At the same time, it made me courageous and
confident with regard to the future, in that the pains that would
appear at the approach of death would be no different from the
pains I was experiencing and investigating in the present. There
would be nothing about those pains that would be so different or
exceptional as to have me deceived or confused at the time of death.
This was a further realization. The pain, as soon as discernment had
fully comprehended it, disappeared instantaneously, and the mind
settled down into total stillness.

Now at
a point like this, if you wanted to, you could say that the mind is
empty, but it's empty in concentration. When it withdraws from that
concentration, the emptiness disappears. From there, the mind
resumes its investigations and continues with them until it gains
expertise in its concentration. (Here I'll ask to condense things so
as to fit them into the time we have left.) Once concentration is
strong, discernment steps up its investigation of the various
aspects of the body until it sees them all clearly and is able to
remove its attachments concerning the body once and for all. At that
point the mind begins to be empty, but it doesn't yet display a
complete emptiness. There are still images appearing as pictures
within it until it gains proficiency from its relentless training.
The images within the heart then begin to fade day by day, until
finally they are gone. No mental images appear either inside or
outside the heart. This is also called an empty mind.

This
kind of emptiness is the inherent emptiness of the mind that has
reached its own level. It's not the emptiness of concentration, or
of sitting and practicing concentration. When we sit in
concentration, that's the emptiness of concentration. But when the
mind has let go of the body because of the thorough comprehension
that comes when its internal images are all gone, and because of the
power of its mindfulness and discernment that are fully alert to
these things, this is called the emptiness of the mind on its own
level.

When
this stage is reached, the mind is truly empty. Even though the body
appears, there's simply a sense that the body is there. No image of
the body appears in the mind at all. Emptiness of this sort is said
to be empty on the level of the mind -- and it's constantly empty
like this at all times. If this emptiness is nibbana, it's
the nibbana of that particular meditator or of that stage of
the mind, but it's not yet the nibbana of the Buddha. If
someone were to take the emptiness of concentration for nibbana
when the mind settles down in concentration, it would simply be the
nibbana of that particular meditator's concentration. Why is
it that these two sorts of emptiness aren't the emptiness of the
Buddha's nibbana? Because the mind empty in concentration is
unavoidably satisfied with and attached to its concentration. The
mind empty in line with its own level as a mind is unavoidably
absorbed in and attached to that sort of emptiness. It has to take
that emptiness as its object or preoccupation until it can pass
beyond it. Anyone who calls this emptiness nibbana can be
said to be attached to the nibbana in this emptiness without
realizing it. When this is the case, how can this sort of emptiness
be nibbana?

If we
don't want this level of nibbana, we have to spread out
feelings (vedana), labels (sa˝˝a), thought-formations
(sankhara), and cognizance (vi˝˝ana) for a thorough
look until we see them clearly and in full detail -- because the
emptiness we're referring to is the emptiness of feeling, in that a
feeling of pleasure fills this emptiness. The mind's labels brand it
as empty. Thought-formations take this emptiness as their
preoccupation. Cognizance helps be aware of it within and isn't
simply aware of things outside -- and so this emptiness is the
emptiness of the mind's preoccupation.

If we
investigate these things and this emptiness clearly as
sankhara-dhammas, or fabrications, this will open the way by
which we are sure some day of passing beyond them. When we
investigate in this way, these four khandhas and this
emptiness -- which obscure the truth -- will gradually unravel and
reveal themselves bit by bit until they are fully apparent. The mind
is then sure to find a way to shake itself free. Even the underlying
basis for sankhara-dhammas that's full of these fabricated
things will not be able to withstand mindfulness and discernment,
because it is interrelated with these things. Mindfulness and
discernment of a radical sort will slash their way in -- just like a
fire that burns without stopping when it meets with fuel -- until
they have dug up the root of these fabricated things. Only then will
they stop their advance.

On this
level, what are the adversaries to the nibbana of the Buddha?
The things to which the mind is attached: the sense that, 'My heart
is empty,' 'My heart is at ease,' 'My heart is clean and clear.'
Even though we may see the heart as empty, it's paired with an
un-emptiness. The heart may seem to be at ease, but it depends on
stress. The heart may seem clean and clear, but it dwells with
defilement -- without our being aware of it. Thus emptiness,
ease, and clarity are the qualities that obscure the heart because
they are the signs of becoming and birth. Whoever wants to cut off
becoming and birth should thus investigate so as to be wise to these
things and to let them go. Don't be possessive of them, or they will
turn into a fire to burn you. If your discernment digs down into
these three lords of becoming as they appear, you will come to the
central hub of becoming and birth, and it will be scattered from the
heart the moment discernment reaches the foundation on which it is
based.

When
these things are ended through the power of discernment, that too is
a form of emptiness. No signs of any conventional reality (sammati)
will appear in this emptiness at all. This is an emptiness different
from the forms of emptiness we have passed through. Whether this
emptiness can be called the emptiness of the Buddha, or whose
emptiness it is, I'm afraid I can't say, other than that it's an
emptiness that each meditator can know directly only for him or
herself alone.

This
emptiness has no time or season. It's akaliko -- timeless --
throughout time. The emptiness of concentration can change, in terms
of progress and regress. The emptiness on the formless or image-less
(arupa) level, which serves as our path, can change or be
transcended. But this emptiness exclusively within oneself doesn't
change -- because there is no self within this emptiness, and no
sense that this emptiness is oneself. There is simply the
knowledge and vision of things as they are (yatha-bhuta-˝ana-dassana)
-- seeing this emptiness in line with its natural principles as they
actually are, and seeing all phenomena as they actually are, as they
pass by and exist in general. Even virtue, concentration, and
discernment -- the qualities we use to straighten out the heart --
are realized for what they are and let go in line with their
actuality. Nothing at all remains lurking in the nature of this
final stage of emptiness.

I ask
that we all reflect on these three kinds of emptiness and try to
develop ourselves to attain them -- and especially the last form of
emptiness, which is an emptiness in the principles of nature, beyond
the range where any other person or any conventional reality can
become involved with us ever again. Our doubts, ranging from the
beginning levels of the Dhamma to this ultimate emptiness, will find
resolution, with our own knowledge and vision acting as judge.

So now
at the end of this talk -- which started out with my telling you of
my own ignorance step by step and then strayed off to this final
emptiness, which is a quality somewhat beyond my powers to explain
any further -- I'll ask to stop, as the proper time seems to have
come.

...Whichever theme you focus on, be earnest with it, keeping
mindfulness in constant touch with the work you are doing. For
example, if you're focusing on the repetition of buddho, keep
constantly aware of the word buddho, buddho, as if there were
nothing else left in the world for you to become two with this or
three with that. There is only one thing: the word buddho
blending step by step with your awareness. As the mind becomes more
and more still, the buddho you are repeating will more and
more blend into one with your awareness. Then the word buddho,
buddho will fall silent, leaving only an awareness that's more
conspicuous than before. This means that you've reached the mind. To
put it in terms of following the tracks of an ox, you've reached the
ox and can let go of its tracks. Here you've reached the inner
buddha, which is like the ox, so now you can let go of the
meditation word.

The
same holds true if you focus on keeping the breath in mind. Whether
the breath is heavy or refined, simply be aware of it as it normally
is. Don't set up any expectations. Don't force the breath to
be like this or that. Keep your awareness with the breath, because
in meditating by taking the breath as your preoccupation, you're not
after the breath. The breath is simply something for the mind to
hold to so that you can reach the real thing, just as when you
follow the tracks of an ox: You're not after the tracks of the ox.
You follow its tracks because you want to reach the ox. Here you're
keeping track of the breath so as to reach the real thing:
awareness. If you were to start out just by holding on to awareness,
you wouldn't get any results, just as you wouldn't be sure of
finding the ox if you simply went around looking for it. But if you
follow its tracks, you're going to find it for sure. Your meditation
word has to keep moving in. This is called following the tracks of
the ox step by step until you reach the ox, or what knows: namely
the mind.

The
same holds true with focusing on the breath. If it's heavy, know
that it's heavy. Don't get worried or upset about it, and don't be
afraid that you'll die because the breath is heavy or because you
feel suffocated. When you do heavy work, you feel suffocated --
don't think that you feel suffocated only when focusing on the
breath. There are a lot of other things more suffocating than this.
If you carry a post or lift something heavy, you feel suffocated to
death all over the body, not just in the chest or in the breath. The
whole body is ready to burst because of the heaviness and great
pain, and yet you can take it. You even know that it's because of
the heavy object, and that's the way it has to be.

While
you focus on keeping the breath in mind when the breath is coarse,
it's as if you were lifting something heavy. It's naturally bound to
feel suffocating, so don't worry about it. Even if it's suffocating,
the important point is to keep track of the breath coming in and
out. Eventually the breath will become more and more refined,
because mindfulness is focused on the breath and doesn't go anywhere
else. When the breath goes in, be aware of it. When it goes out, be
aware of it, but there's no need to follow it in and out. That would
simply be creating a greater burden for yourself, and your attention
might slip away. So focus right on the entry point where the breath
goes in and out. In most cases, the tip of the nose is the place to
focus on the breath. Keep watch right there. Keep aware right there.
Don't waste your time speculating or planning on how the results
will appear, or else your mind will wander away from the principle
of the cause that will give rise to those results. Keep close watch
on the cause -- what you are doing -- and the breath will become
more and more refined.

When
the breath becomes more refined, that shows that the mind is
refined. Even if the breath becomes so refined that it disappears --
at the same time that you're aware that it's disappearing -- don't
be afraid. The breath disappears, but your awareness doesn't
disappear. You're meditating not for the sake of the breath, but for
the sake of awareness, so stay with that awareness. You don't have
to worry or be afraid that you'll faint or die. As long as the mind
is still in charge of the body, then even if the breath disappears,
you won't die. The mind will dwell with freedom, with no agitation,
no worries, no fears at all. This is how you focus on the breath.

We have
gone forth from the household life and are abstainers from all
things that are our own enemies and enemies of the common good.
That's why we're said to have gone forth: It means that we abstain.
'Abstaining' here means refraining from the things that work to our
detriment. Once we have gone forth, our duty is to abstain from
things that are unwise and to develop wisdom -- intelligence -- as
much as we can until it is enough to carry us past our obstacles:
the entire mass of suffering.

At
present we all know that we have gone forth. The world calls us
'people who have gone forth,' so be conscious of your status at all
times and in your every movement in thought, word, and deed. You are
ordained in the Buddha's religion and have his teachings as your
guide. His teachings have both a fence and an open way. The fence is
the Vinaya, which prescribes penalties for our errors -- major,
intermediate, and minor. This is the fence that blocks the wrong
paths so that we won't stray down them, and that opens the right
path -- the Dhamma -- so that we can follow it to the goal to which
we aspire. The Vinaya is a fence on both sides of the path. If we go
astray, it means we've gone wrong. If we go just a little astray,
we've gone just a little bit wrong. If we go far astray, we've gone
far wrong. If we go so far astray that we can't get back on the
path, we've gone absolutely wrong. This is like a person who loses
his way: If he gets just a little lost, he can quickly get back on
the path. If he gets more lost, it wastes a lot of his time. If he
gets really lost, he has no chance of reaching his goal. Thus the
Vinaya is like a fence to prevent those who have gone forth from
going wrong. This fence has various levels -- in line with the
differing levels of lay people and those who have ordained -- for us
to observe in line with our moral duties, beginning with the five
precepts and going up to the eight, the ten, and the 227 precepts.

As for
the Dhamma, which is the path to follow as taught by the Buddha, it
has conviction as its basis -- in other words, conviction in
the path to be followed for good results -- and persistence
in making the effort to follow the path unflaggingly. Mindfulness
is what guides our efforts as we follow the path. Concentration
is firmness of the heart in following the path, in addition to being
food for the journey -- in other words, mental peace and ease along
the way before we reach the goal. And discernment is
circumspection in following the path step by step from beginning to
end. These qualities support and encourage us to stay on the right
path. When we have these five qualities -- conviction, persistence,
mindfulness, concentration, and discernment -- constantly with us,
there's no need to doubt that the results will appear as our reward,
clear to the heart, in line with our strength and abilities. If we
develop these five qualities so that they are powerful within our
hearts, the results that the Buddha proclaimed as lying at the end
of the path -- release and nibbana -- won't be able to elude
us, because all of these qualities aim at these results.

So I
ask that you as meditators nourish your conviction in the Dhamma and
in your own capabilities. Make your persistence adequate to the
task. Concentration will then appear as a result, so try to make it
adequate, and take mindfulness and discernment as your guardians.
The results will then appear to your full satisfaction. You don't
have to worry about where the paths, fruitions, and nibbana
lie. Try to nourish the causes I have explained here and make them
adequate. Nothing will then be able to prevent the results that
will arise from those causes.

These
five qualities -- principles in following the path -- are called the
five indriya or five bala.'Indriya' means
dominant factor. 'Bala' means strength. As for the Vinaya,
it's a fence guarding both sides of the path to keep us from
straying from the way to the paths, fruitions, and nibbana.
The Buddha closed off both sides and then opened the way -- the five
strengths -- for us to follow as much as we like.

Kaya-viveka: physical seclusion in your dwelling place. The
place where we are staying now is fairly conducive in this respect.
Citta-viveka: mental seclusion. Those of you aiming for inner
seclusion in line with the levels of your concentration have already
attained a fair amount. Those of you who are just beginning, who
don't have any mental seclusion in your hearts, should try to
nourish the five strengths to make them solid. Inner seclusion will
gradually appear step by step. Those of you who have attained an
adequate amount of inner seclusion should try to make it more and
more refined, at the same time developing discernment or
circumspection with regard to your seclusion. As for those of you at
the higher stages of the practice, you should urgently gather up
persistence with discernment so as to make it adequate, and it will
bear fruit as upadhi-viveka -- absolute seclusion from the
defilements -- appearing clearly to your hearts.

Physical seclusion means finding peace in solitary places. You don't
get embroiled in external matters; you don't latch on to work to
disturb the body to the point where you turn your temporary dwelling
place into a factory, viewing physical work as the basis of the
religion and as your occupation as a monk -- as we see happening
everywhere -- to the point where you no longer have any interest in
the inner effort of the practice that is a monk's true duty. Mental
seclusion refers to the peace of mind endowed with the inner effort
of the practice to keep it from running wild with the things that
make contact. You rein it in so as to keep it still with
watchfulness and restraint at all times. The nature of this level of
mental peace is that even though external things may not be making
any disturbance, there are still some enemy preoccupations lurking
within the mind. This is why this level is termed simply mental
seclusion, seclusion from the disturbance of external objects.

As for
seclusion from the defilements, this refers to peace with regard to
such external things as sights, sounds, smells, and tastes, as well
as to peace with regard to internal preoccupations that are the
particular enemies of the mind. In other words, you are free both
from external enemies and from internal enemies. This is
absolute seclusion from the defilements, without even the least
thing infiltrating the heart. The heart is in this state at all
times. Even though various things may come and make contact, or the
khandhas may do their work in line with their duties,
these things can't permeate into the heart to cause it any
difficulties.

These
are the results that come from the basis of physical and mental
seclusion. These three qualities -- physical seclusion, mental
seclusion, and seclusion with regard to the defilements -- are
qualities that all of you as meditators should be capable of
developing fully within yourselves. There should be nothing blocking
your way. All I ask is that you don't abandon your efforts. Be
courageous and enthusiastic in searching out lonely, isolated
places: places where you can shed your foolishness with regard to
yourselves once and for all. This is the way through which the
Buddha and all his Noble Disciples passed before reaching the land
of nibbana -- so how could these places turn into the enemies
of those of us who are following the Buddha's example? Don't be
worried that you'll lose your lives in such places. If that were to
be the case, the Buddha would have had to change his preliminary
instructions to us after our ordination from rukkhamula-senasanam
-- living in the forest -- to something else, in keeping with his
compassion for all living beings, human and divine. If living in
lonely, solitary places, making the effort in line with the Buddha's
example, were to give results other than those corresponding to the
Dhamma he taught, he would have had to modify his various teachings
to be in keeping with the demands of time and place. The 37 wings to
Awakening (bodhi-pakkhiya-dhamma) -- which are like the
Buddha's very heart that he gave to us so rightly -- would have had
to be completely altered.

But
these truths are constant and unwavering. The Buddha never changed
them. We as meditators should thus modify our thoughts, words, and
deeds to fit in with this Dhamma. It would be highly inappropriate
for us to modify the Dhamma to conform with the influence of our
hearts with their defilements. If we were to do such a thing, we
would become Devadatta's in our thoughts, words, and deeds, and our
Teacher -- the Buddha's right teachings -- would be lost to us
without our even realizing it.

So try
to be persistent, in line with the teachings given by the Buddha. Be
brave in contending with the enemies of the heart -- both those that
come from within and those that come from without -- together with
the results they bring. Always take an interest in seeing where
suffering and stress come from and how they arise. Don't abandon
this work or get bored with it. Try to know the causes and effects
of the things that come into contact or become involved with the
heart to see how they give rise to stress, until you can ultimately
see the causes clearly -- and in that same moment, you will clearly
understand the results.

The
most important points, no matter when I teach you -- and they are
teachings that lie close to my heart -- are mindfulness and
discernment. These qualities are very important. If you lack
mindfulness and discernment, the results of your practice will be
erratic. The progress of your efforts will be interrupted and
uneven. The techniques of your intelligence for curing defilement
will be lacking, and the results -- peace and ease -- will be
sporadic. If mindfulness and discernment are interrupted, you
should know that all the efforts of your practice have been
interrupted in the same instant. So I ask that each of you
realize this. Every time I've given a talk, I've never omitted the
topics of mindfulness and discernment. You could almost say that I
give them the limelight more than any other topic, for I've
considered the matter to the best of my ability, from the time I
first started the practice until today, and I have never seen any
qualities superior to mindfulness and discernment in being able to
unravel things within or without so as to make them clear to the
heart. For this reason, I teach you these two qualities so that
you'll know: To put them in terms of wood, they're the heartwood or
the tap root of the tree. In terms of the Dhamma, they're the root,
the crucial tools for eliminating all defilements and mental
effluents (asava), from the blatant to the most extremely
refined levels, once and for all.

If you
lack mindfulness, you can't even give rise to concentration. If you
lack discernment, your concentration might turn into wrong
concentration -- for the word 'concentration' is a neutral term.
There's no assurance as to what sort of concentration it may be. If
it lacks discernment as its guardian, it's sure to turn into
concentration that deviates from the principles of the Dhamma
without your realizing it. There are many levels of wrong
concentration -- those that appear blatantly to the world, as well
as intermediate and subtle levels -- but here I'll discuss only
those forms of wrong concentration that can occur to us in the area
of the practice without our realizing it.

For
example, when we enter concentration, the mind may gather and rest
for a long or a short time, but when we withdraw, we're still
attached to that concentration and not at all interested in
developing discernment. We may feel that the concentration will turn
into the paths, fruitions, or nibbana; or else we are
addicted to the concentration and want the mind to stay gathered
that way for long periods of time or forever. Sometimes, after the
mind gathers into its resting place, it then withdraws a bit, going
out to know the various things that make contact, becoming attached
and engrossed with its visions. Sometimes it may float out of the
body to travel to the Brahma worlds, heaven, hell, or the world of
the hungry shades, without a thought for what's right or wrong, as
we become engrossed in our visions and abilities, taking them as our
amazing paths, fruitions, and nibbana, and those of the
religion as well. When this happens, then even if someone skilled
and experienced in this area comes to warn us, we won't be willing
to listen at all. All of these things are termed wrong concentration
that we don't realize to be wrong.

So what
is right concentration like, and how should you practice for the
sake of rightness? This is where a few differences lie. When you sit
in concentration and the mind gathers to rest -- no matter what the
level of concentration -- how long it stays there depends on the
particular strength of that level of concentration. Let the mind
rest in line with its level of concentration. There's no need to
force it to withdraw. Let it rest as long as it wants, and then it
will withdraw on its own. Once it withdraws, try to train yourself
to explore with your discernment. Whatever level of discernment
corresponds to that level of concentration, use it to investigate
and contemplate the physical properties (dhatu) and
khandhas. Whether you investigate these things within or without
is not an issue. All that is asked is that you investigate for
the sake of knowing cause and effect, for the sake of curing or
extricating yourself: Just this much is what's right. Use your
discernment to investigate conditions of nature (sabhava dhamma)
both within and without, or else exclusively within or exclusively
without. Contemplate them in terms of any one of the three
characteristics (ti-lakkhana) until you are experienced and
astute, until you can find the openings by which you can extricate
yourself step by step. When you have investigated to the point where
you feel tired, and the mind wants to rest in its home of
concentration, let it rest as much as it wants. Whether it rests for
a long or a short time is not an issue. Let it rest until it
withdraws on its own. As soon as it withdraws, continue with your
investigation of such phenomena as the body, as before.

This is
right concentration. Be aware of the fact that concentration is
simply a temporary resting place. When you have investigated a great
deal in the area of discernment and feel mentally tired, rest in
concentration. Once the mind is strong again, it'll withdraw. If
it's in shape to investigate, then continue investigating. Keep
practicing this way constantly. Your concentration will go smoothly,
and your discernment will always be astute. Things will go evenly,
both in the area of concentration and in the area of discernment,
because concentration is beneficial in one way, and discernment in
another. If you let yourself follow only the path of discernment,
you'll go wrong because you won't have concentration as a support.
If you let yourself follow only the path of concentration, you'll go
even more wrong than by simply following the path of discernment.

To
summarize: These two qualities are like a right arm and a left arm,
a right leg and a left leg. Wherever a person walks or whatever he
does, he needs both arms and both legs. Concentration and
discernment are necessary in just the same way. If you feel that
concentration is better than discernment, or discernment better than
concentration, then you should have only one arm or one leg, not two
arms and two legs like everyone else. In other words, you don't
fit in with the rest of the world. Whoever doesn't fit in with
the Dhamma of the Lord Buddha -- criticizing discernment and
praising concentration, or criticizing concentration and praising
discernment -- is the same sort of person.

What's
right is that when you are developing concentration, you have to do
your duties in terms of concentration and really see the value of
concentration. When you are contemplating with discernment, you have
to do your duties in terms of discernment and really see the value
of discernment. Let each side rest at the right time. Don't get them
mixed up together. It's the same as when you walk: When your right
foot takes a step, your left foot has to stop. When your left foot
takes a step, your right foot has to stop. They don't both step at
the same time. Thus both concentration and discernment have their
benefits. But when mindfulness and discernment develop enough
strength from being trained together, concentration and discernment
will then step together -- it's not the case that they'll always
take turns -- in the same way that your right arm and left arm work
together.

Here
we've discussed the relationship between concentration and
discernment for those who tend to develop concentration first, who
are usually in danger of their concentration's going out of bounds
without seeing discernment as the other side of the practice. If
it's a necessary quality, you should use it at the appropriate
times. As for those who tend to have discernment fostering their
concentration, their minds can't settle down into stillness simply
through the power of concentration practice alone. They need to use
discernment to put brakes on the mind -- which is restless and
running wild with its various preoccupations -- by keeping track of
the restlessness of the heart so as to see why it is restless
and what there is that encourages it to be that way.
Discernment has to go ferreting out the various things the mind is
labeling and interpreting until the mind surrenders to its
discernment and is able to enter stillness. This sort of stillness
of mind is said to be still through discernment.

Some
people, even when their minds have entered stillness, can at the
same time use discernment to investigate and form thoughts without
these things being an enemy to that stillness. Perhaps you may
think, 'If the mind is concentrated, how can it form thoughts?' and
then become doubtful about your concentration. This is called not
understanding your own tendencies. These doubts are normal for those
who aren't experienced and don't know -- since no one has given them
any directions that they can hold to as authoritative -- so they may
become uncertain about their practice when this sort of thing
happens to them. So here I'd like to take the opportunity to
explain: The mind that attains stillness through the method of using
discernment as its guardian can continue having thought processes
occurring on one level of concentration, but when we reach a fully
refined level, no matter which way our concentration is fostered,
all thought-formations will cease. No labeling of things will be
left in that refined concentration; no thought-formations or
cognizance of various things will appear.

To
summarize: The intermediate level of concentration for those whose
minds gather quickly -- namely, those who start out with
concentration -- won't have any thought processes, because the
moment thoughts forms, their minds will begin to withdraw from
concentration. The concentration attained through the guardian power
of discernment, though, can still form thoughts without the mind's
withdrawing from concentration -- and both types of concentration
must have mindfulness alert as they gather inward.

Today
I've explained the differences between wrong and right concentration
-- enough so that you as meditators will understand and take this as
a guide. I've stressed that mindfulness and discernment are very
important factors. Those of you who are training mindfulness
shouldn't wait to train it only when you are meditating. You must
train it at all times. Wherever you go, whatever you do, be mindful.
Always take your stance in the effort of the practice. Once there is
mindfulness, there also has to be self-awareness (sampaja˝˝a),
because self-awareness comes from established mindfulness. If
mindfulness is lacking, no self-awareness appears. So try to develop
your basic mindfulness until it is capable and strong enough to be
the sort of mindfulness suitable for the effort of the practice
within the heart. From that point it will become super-mindfulness
because you have continually fostered it and kept it established.

The
same holds true with discernment. Try to contemplate the things that
make contact with the mind: sights, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile
sensations, and the thoughts that occur exclusively within. You have
to explore these things, ferreting out their causes, until you find
it habitual to contemplate and think. When this level of discernment
gains strength, it will advance to a higher level, and you will be
able to use this higher level of discernment to investigate your
doubts about the situation exclusively within the heart. You will be
able to see things clearly and cut away your various doubts through
the power of discernment, the discernment you have trained in this
way so that it becomes super-discernment, just like
super-mindfulness. I've never seen it happen anywhere that anyone
who hasn't started out by training discernment in this way has
suddenly gained full results through superlative discernment.
Even those who are termed khippabhi˝˝a -- who have attained
Awakening quickly -- started out from crude discernment, advancing
quickly, step by step, and gained Awakening in the Buddha's
presence, as we all know from the texts. So when we train our
mindfulness and discernment to follow our every movement, without
any thought for whether we're meditating or not, but simply keeping
this hidden sort of meditation going at all times, then no matter
what, our minds will have to enter stillness, and discernment will
begin to appear.

In
particular -- for those of us who are monks, or who are
single-mindedly intent on practicing for the sake of mental peace
and release from suffering and stress -- mindfulness and discernment
are even more necessary. Once we have trained mindfulness and
discernment to become so habitual that we're constantly circumspect,
then when we focus outside, we'll be intelligent. When we focus
inside -- on the body, feelings, mind, and phenomena -- we'll become
more and more astute. When we investigate body, feelings, labels,
thought-formations, and cognizance, we'll develop techniques for
removing defilement without break. Mindfulness is especially
important. If you lack mindfulness as a protective barrier at any
time, discernment will simply turn into labels without your
realizing it. Thus mindfulness is the quality with a solidity that
helps discernment become astute in a smooth and even way. The power
of mindfulness acts like the bank of a river, keeping discernment
from going out of bounds. Discernment that goes out of bounds
turns into labels. If it's true discernment, it doesn't go out
of bounds, because it has mindfulness in charge.

If you
use discernment to focus within the body, things will catch your
attention at every step. Inconstancy (anicca), stress
(dukkha), and not-selfness (anatta): One or another of
these three characteristics is sure to appear, because all of them
are always there in the nature of the body. When mindfulness and
discernment reach this level, the mind and its objects will come
into the present. You should know that no Dhamma has ever
appeared because of past or future affairs. It appears only
because of the present. Even if you contemplate matters of the past
of future, you have to bring them into the scope of the present if
you hope to gain any benefit from them. For example, if you see
someone die, refer it to yourself: 'I'll have to die as well.' As
soon as the word 'I' appears, things come running back to you and
appear in the present. Matters of past and future, if you want them
to be useful, must always be brought into the present. For example,
'Yesterday that person died. Today or tomorrow I may die in the same
way.' With the 'I', you immediately come into the present. External
matters have to be brought inward; matters ahead and behind have to
be brought into the present if they are to serve any benefit. If you
always use mindfulness and discernment to contemplate the conditions
of nature -- such as the body -- all around you, then no matter
what, things won't lie beyond your grasp. You'll have to understand
them clearly.

In
investigating phenomena, such as the body, analyze them into their
parts and aspects, and use your discernment to contemplate them
until they are clear. Don't let thoughts or allusions drag you away
from the phenomenon you are investigating, unless you are using
thoughts as a standard for your discernment to follow when it
doesn't yet have enough strength for the investigation. Keep
mindfulness firmly in place as a protective fence -- and you will
come to understand clearly things you never understood before,
because the conditions of nature are already there in full
measure. You don't have to go looking anywhere for inconstancy,
stress, and not-selfness. They are qualities filling your body and
mind at all times. The only problem is that mindfulness and
discernment haven't been able to ferret them out to make them your
own wealth. But if you are set on investigating observantly day and
night -- thinking not about how many times you do it in a day or
night, but taking the skill and agility of your discernment as your
standard -- keeping mindfulness as a steady flow in the present and
radiating discernment all around you, then whatever makes a move in
any direction, mindfulness and discernment will follow right after
it. When we have trained mindfulness and discernment to be
sufficient to the task like this, how will their foes be able to
withstand them? After all, we haven't made it our purpose to
encourage such things as restlessness and distraction. We're trying
at all times to practice the Dhamma -- the means for stopping such
things -- so as to keep abreast of the movements of the bandits
always lying in wait to rob us at any moment.

We must
thus force the mind to investigate in the way we've mentioned.
Ferret out each part of the body so as to see it clearly, from the
outside into the inside, or take just the inside and bring it out
for a look. Look forwards and backwards, up and down, separating the
body into pieces. You can imagine fire burning it into ashes and
dust, or whatever other ways you can imagine it scattered into
pieces, depending on what comes easiest to you. All count as ways in
which your discernment is making itself ingenious and astute. When
it's sufficiently developed, you'll be wise to all of these things,
and they'll be clear to your heart without your having to ask anyone
else about them at all.

The
more you investigate the body until you understand it clearly, the
more clearly you will understand the affairs of feelings, mind, and
phenomena, or feelings, labels, thought-formations, and cognizance,
because all these things are whetstones for sharpening discernment
step by step. It's the same as when we bail water out of a fish
pond: The more water we bail out, the more clearly we'll see the
fish. Or as when clearing a forest: The more vegetation we cut away,
the more space we'll see. The things I've just mentioned are the
factors that conceal the mind so that we can't clearly see the
mental currents that flow out from the heart to its various
preoccupations. When you use discernment to contemplate in this way,
the currents of the heart will become plain. You'll see the rippling
of the mind clearly every moment it occurs -- and the heart itself
will become plain, because mindfulness is strong and discernment
quick. As soon as the mind ripples, mindfulness and discernment --
which are there in the same place -- will be able to keep track of
it and resolve it in time. But be aware that in investigating the
five khandhas or the four frames of reference (satipatthana),
we aren't trying to take hold of these things as our paths,
fruitions, and nibbana. We're trying to strip them away so as
to see exactly what is the nature of the fish -- namely, the heart
containing all sorts of defilements.

The
more you investigate... You needn't count how many times you do it
in a day. Focus instead on how expert and agile you can make your
mind at investigating. The more you investigate -- and the more
skillful you get at investigating -- the more the astuteness of your
discernment, which is sharp and flashing as it deals with you
yourself and with conditions of nature in general, will develop
until it has no limit. You'll eventually have the knowledge and
ability to realize that the conditions of nature you have been
investigating in stages -- beginning with sights, sounds,
smells, tastes, and tactile sensations throughout the cosmos, and
turning inward to your own body, feelings, labels,
thought-formations, and cognizance -- are not defilements,
cravings, or mental effluents in any way. The heart alone is
what has defilements, cravings, and mental effluents with which it
binds itself. Nothing else has the power to reach into the heart
so as to bind it. Aside from the heart that is ignorant about
itself -- searching for shackles for its neck and setting the fires
of delusion to burn itself to no purpose -- there are no traces
of enemies to the heart anywhere at all. We can compare this to
a knife, which is a tool made to benefit intelligent people, but
which a foolish person grabs hold of to kill himself and then
accuses the knife of being his enemy. What precedent is there for
making such a charge? All conditions of nature in general are like
useful tools, but a stupid person grabs hold of them to bind himself
and then claims that the conditions of nature throughout the world
have put their heads together to abuse him. Who can decide such a
case? -- for the plaintiff has already killed himself. If we decide
that the instrument of death loses the case to the dead plaintiff,
what sort of vindication is the plaintiff going to gain to give him
any satisfaction?

The
heart that's deluded about itself and about its own affairs is in
the same sort of predicament. Thus when discernment begins to
penetrate in to know the conditions of nature -- beginning with the
body -- it will also have to penetrate into the causal point. It
will know clearly with its discernment the objects to which the mind
tends to send its mental currents, and how strong or weak, many or
few those currents are. It will come to see that the things that it
used to see as enemies aren't really enemies at all. This is because
of the power of discernment that has contemplated things carefully
and correctly. At the same time, it will turn around to perceive the
awareness inside itself as being its own enemy. This is because of
the power of the discernment that sees clearly and comes in, letting
go stage by stage, the things it can no longer hold to. This is why
clear understanding through discernment -- once it has realized that
sights, sounds and so forth, on into the body, feelings, labels,
thought-formations, and cognizance, are not enemies -- must let them
go stage by stage until they no longer remain in the heart.

And as
for this knowing nature: Before, we weren't able to tell whether it
was harmful or beneficial, which is why we went about branding
things all over the cosmos as being good or bad, beautiful or ugly,
lovable or hateful, so amazing as to make us feel like floating or
so dreary as to make us miserable and unable to sleep because of the
dreariness: in short, making ourselves pleased, displeased, and
endlessly miserable without our realizing it. What is the cause
that makes the mind like a wheel, turning in cycles around
itself, generating the fires of passion, aversion, and delusion to
burn itself at all times? When discernment has contemplated things
until they are clear, all conditions of nature, within and without,
will be seen to have the same characteristics. None of them are
enemies to anyone at all. You will see -- the moment discernment
removes all the things concealing it -- that the only fault lies
with this knowing nature. At this point, when the knower moves
or ripples -- blip! -- you'll know immediately that the inner wheel
is getting into the act. This is the troublemaker, heaping up
misery. It's the direct cause of suffering and stress. Aside from
this knowing nature, there is no cause of suffering and stress
anywhere in the world.

When we
reach this level, only this awareness -- this entire awareness -- is
the cause of suffering. When this fact becomes this clear to the
heart through discernment, who would be willing to hold to this
knower -- this wheel -- as his or her self? This is the subtle
discernment, the automatic discernment in the principles of nature,
that was trained by our forcing it in the beginning stages. The
results now appear as an ingenuity and intelligence sufficient to
the task. There's nothing wrong with calling it super-discernment.
In addition to knowing the revolving mind that is the cause of
stress, this discernment turns inward to know why that mind is a
cause of stress, and how. Intent on knowing, it probes in after the
reasons that reveal themselves.

But for
the most part when we reach this level, if our discernment hasn't
really considered things with precision and thoroughness, we're sure
to get stuck on this revolving awareness, because it's the supreme
cause of the cycle -- so deceptive and attractive that we as
meditators don't realize our attachment to it. In addition to being
deluded and attached without our realizing it, we may even spread
this subtle form of delusion, through our misunderstanding, to
delude many other people as well.

So to
let you know: This knowing nature, in terms of it marvelousness, is
more marvelous than anything else. In terms of its radiance, it's
more radiant than anything else, which is why we should call it a
pit of burning embers secretly lying in wait for us. But no matter
what, this knowing nature can't withstand the discernment that is
its match in subtlety. We are sure to learn the truth from our
discernment that this knowing nature is the foremost cause of
suffering and stress. When we know this, this nature won't be able
to stand. It will have to disintegrate immediately, just as when
people smash a solid object to pieces with an iron bar.

When
this nature disintegrates after having been destroyed by
discernment, a nature marvelous far above and beyond any
conventional reality will appear in full measure. At the same
moment, we will see the harm of what is harmful and the benefits of
what is beneficial. The awareness of release will appear as
dhammo padipo -- the brightness of the Dhamma -- in full
radiance, like the sun that, when unobscured by clouds, lets the
world receive the full radiance of its light. The result is that the
awareness of release appears plainly to the heart of the meditator
the moment unawareness has disbanded.

This is
the result. What the causes are, I've already explained to you:
conviction, persistence, mindfulness, concentration, and
discernment. This is the path to follow leading right to this point.
It doesn't lead anywhere else. Whether you live at home, in a
monastery, or in a forest, whether you're a woman or a man, ordained
or not: If you have these five qualities always with you, you're
heading toward this point. In other words, we all have the same
full rights in the practice and in the results we'll receive.

So I
ask that all of you as meditators -- and you know clearly that you
are meditators and abstainers as well -- I ask that you practice so
as to develop your thoughts, words, and deeds, and that you fully
abstain from things that are your enemies until you reach the goal
-- the release of nibbana -- as I've already explained. None
of these qualities lie beyond your mindfulness, discernment, and
relentless effort. These are the teachings the Buddha gave to us as
svakkhata-dhamma -- the well-taught Dhamma. In other words,
he rightly taught us the path to follow. He taught that the wrong
path was really wrong, and the right path really right. And the
results -- release and nibbana -- that come from following
the right path were also rightly taught. The only problem is with
those of us following the path: Will we really follow it rightly or
not? If we follow it rightly in line with what the Buddha
taught, the results are sure to appear as sammadeva asavehi
vimuccati -- right release from all defilements and mental
effluents.

So for
this reason you should make an effort to train your mindfulness and
discernment at every moment and not just in any one particular
position. Don't think that this is making too much of an effort. The
more you understand, the more ingenious you become, the more you can
cure defilement, the more you gain release from suffering and
stress: These are the results we all want step by step until we
really gain release with nothing left. In other words, we gain
release while we're conscious and aware in this lifetime, while
overseeing these five khandhas. This is the most certain
Dhamma -- because the word svakkhata-dhamma, the Dhamma
rightly taught by the Buddha, doesn't mean that it's right only
after we die. It's also right while we are practicing it, and
the results that come in line with our efforts appear clearly to the
hearts of meditators while they are alive.

As for
the methods or techniques you use to train your hearts, I ask to
leave them up to each person's intelligence and ingenuity in the
course of making the effort in the practice. You have to notice
which positions are most helpful in your practice. Don't simply sit
and keep on sitting, or walk and keep on walking. You have to
remember to notice what results and benefits you get from your
efforts as well, because different people may find themselves more
or less suited to the four different positions of sitting, standing,
walking, and lying down.

Today
I've explained the Dhamma to all of you from the beginning to the
final point of my ability, so I feel that this should be enough for
now. I ask that each of you take the Dhamma that I've explained
today and that you have encountered in your practice, and make it
food for thought or a companion to your practice. The results you
will receive can in no way deviate from today's explanation.

The
mind constantly coerced or oppressed at all times and the mind
absolutely released from that coercion and oppression are two very
different things -- so different that there is no conventional
reality that can be compared to the mind released. This sort of mind
doesn't lie in the realm of conventional reality in such a way that
anything may rightly be compared to it in keeping with the reality
of its nature. Even though some comparisons can be made, they're
simply a manner of speaking. They aren't really in line with the
truth of that nature as it exists. We have to make comparisons
simply because the world has its conventions and analogies.

We see
prisoners in jail who are coerced and oppressed, who are deprived of
their freedom at all times beginning from the day of their
imprisonment to the day of their release. What sort of happiness do
they have? Even though they may have their laughter, in line with
the things that may make them laugh, it's still the laughter of
prisoners. Just hearing the word 'prisoner' is enough to tell us
that happiness isn't what produces their laughter. Their penalty is
what produces their laughter. It keeps coercing and oppressing them.
So where can we find any happiness and pleasure among them?

We can
take this and compare it inwardly to the state of affairs between
the mind and the defilements that coerce and oppress it. These
things control and coerce it with every mental moment. Even when the
mind isn't forming any thoughts, it's still controlled and coerced
in this way, in line with its nature. When this is the case, where
can it find any true happiness? The happiness it does have is
happiness like the food fed to prisoners. And what sort of food is
that? Even though we may never have been imprisoned, we know what
sort of food is fed to prisoners. Is there anything satisfying about
it, the food they feed prisoners?

The
foods -- the temptations -- with which the defilements feed the
mind, if we were to speak in the way of the world, are simply to
keep it from dying, in the same way that prisoners are fed. The
defilements feed the mind so that it can be put to work, in the same
way that prisoners are fed so that they can be put to work, so that
we can get the fruits of their labor. The food for the mind that the
defilements bring to sustain us is thus like the food fed to
prisoners. There's no difference at all. If we compare them, that's
the way they are.

But if
we look from a different angle, we can see that prisoners are still
better off than we are, because they know that they eat their food
out of necessity. They don't eat it out of satisfaction with it or
its taste or anything, because there's nothing at all gratifying
about the food they are fed. But we meditators are still content to
be attached to the flavor of worldly pleasures, so we're said to be
stuck. When we're attached to visual objects, it's because we find
flavor in them. When we're attached to sounds, smells, tastes, and
tactile sensations, it's simply because we find flavor in them.
It's not the case that the only flavor is the flavor we taste with
the tongue. All forms of contact -- with the eye, ear, nose,
tongue, body, and mind -- have their flavor, and we've been attached
to them in such a way that we haven't even realized our attachment
for aeons and aeons.

The
mind is attached, bound, and feels love for these things without
knowing that they are flavors that tie us down, that they are all
matters of defilement: the flavors of defilement. So we are attached
to the point where we will never know the harm of these flavors at
all if we don't use mindfulness and discernment to investigate them
wisely. Regardless of how many aeons may pass, we will have to be
attached to these flavors, engrossed in these flavors, without ever
coming to our senses. This is the ingenuity, the cleverness of the
defilements. How ingenious and clever are they?

If you
want to know, then set your heart on the practice. And don't forget
what I'm saying here. Someday it's sure to become clear to your
heart as a result of your earnest practice. There's no escaping it.
Listen carefully to the Buddha's words: 'The flavor of the Dhamma
surpasses all other flavors.' What sort of flavor is the flavor of
the Dhamma that it has to surpass all other flavors? Those other
flavors are the flavors of the food of prisoners, imprisoned in the
wheel of death and rebirth through the power of defilement. They
aren't food or flavors that can keep the heart satisfied. They
aren't true flavors. They aren't the flavors of the truth. They're
the flavors of the counterfeits that the defilements whip up into
being for us to touch or to eat. They aren't the flavors of the true
Dhamma.

The
flavor of the Dhamma will begin to appear when the mind is centered
in concentration. As soon as the mind begins to be still, pleasure
will begin to appear as its flavor, depending on the amount of
stillness in line with the levels of its tranquillity. When we say
'levels of tranquillity', don't go thinking that they're separate
steps, like those of a ladder. It's simply a way of speaking.
Actually, they're all connected, from the pleasure of basic
concentration progressively up to the levels of refined
concentration. The pleasure that arises will become correspondingly
more and more refined. This counts as one of the flavors of the
Dhamma -- the Dhamma of concentration, the Dhamma of peace -- in the
levels of the stillness of the mind.

As soon
as the mind has stillness for its food, it lets go of its concerns
for the various flavors of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and
tactile sensations step by step, because the flavor of this
stillness begins to excel them. Even this is enough to begin
excelling all other flavors. Even more so when the mind begins to
investigate things with its discernment, analyzing them in terms of
the three characteristics or the meditation theme of
unattractiveness -- because in the beginning we tend to develop the
theme of unattractiveness, contemplating every part of our own body
and the bodies of others, inside and out, as seems most appropriate
and natural for us to investigate, because they all share the same
conditions for us to see clearly step by step: The flavor of the
Dhamma will then intensify, becoming an ingenious flavor. And in
addition to being an ingenious flavor, it's a flavor that comes from
being able to let go.

The
nature of the mind is such that once it investigates anything to the
point of seeing it clearly, it lets go. When it hasn't let go, when
it grasps with attachment, these are the chains and fetters with
which defilement keeps it bound. The defilements confer titles,
telling us, 'This is good. That's pretty. This is beautiful.' They
never tell us that the body is filthy, ugly, inconstant, stressful,
and not-self -- not belonging to us or to anyone else. These are
things the defilements never tell us, never mention, never suggest
in line with the principles of the truth. Instead, they bring their
own principles in to interfere with the Dhamma, telling us just the
opposite -- that this or that is beautiful, lasting, valuable --
denying the truth every step of the way because they are very
powerful. For this reason, we need to keep track of their deceits,
counteracting and removing them, by using such qualities as
mindfulness and discernment.

Our
world is entirely stuck in the deceits of defilement. When
discernment has investigated inward, in line with the principles of
unattractiveness as we have already mentioned, and in line with the
three characteristics of inconstancy, stress, and not-self, probing
and analyzing back and forth, time and again, the truths that the
defilements have kept concealed will be revealed in line with these
principles of truth -- because these principles are truth pure and
simple. There's nothing counterfeit about them. What's counterfeit
-- our false views -- are an affair of defilement, not an affair of
the Dhamma.

We will
be able truly to see things as they are -- without a doubt -- once
we can remove the counterfeit things that conceal them. For example,
beauty: Where, exactly, is the body beautiful? What is there about
it that you can claim to be beautiful? If you speak in terms of the
principles of the truth, how can you even look at the human body?
It's entirely filled with filthiness, both within and without, which
is why we have to keep washing it all the time. Even the clothing
and other articles on which the body depends have to be dirty
because the main part -- the body -- is a well of filth within and
without. Whatever it comes into contact with -- robes, clothing,
dwelling, bedding -- has to become dirty as well. Wherever human
beings live becomes dirty, but we don't see the truth, mainly
because we aren't interested in looking.

As
meditators we should investigate so as to see this truth. Don't run
away from it. This is the genuine truth. The things that fool us
into seeing the body as beautiful are counterfeit and false. So.
Look into your body. Which part can you claim to be beautiful, to
contend with the truth of the Dhamma? Look for it. Is there
any part that dares claim to be above the Dhamma and more true than
the Dhamma -- unless it's simply more false than the Dhamma?

The
fact that the Dhamma isn't appearing in our heart is because at the
moment falseness is more powerful, more established, and conceals
things completely. Even though there's filth throughout the body
both within and without, we're still able to regard it as beautiful
and lasting. The issues between truth and falsity lie within our
body and mind, because the defilements themselves lie within the
mind and spread their power out throughout the various parts of the
body, and then splash out beyond, throughout the world of rebirth,
saying that this is us, that's ours, everything is us, ours,
beautiful, lasting, enjoyable -- depending on the song with which
the defilements, the deceivers, fool the mind into jumping,
bouncing, and spinning much more than a soccer ball. And what
happiness can we find in jumping along with all the deceits we've
mentioned here?

If we
haven't yet awakened and come to our senses, when will we, and
where? If the Dhamma of the Lord Buddha hasn't awakened us
meditators, who in the world will be able to awaken us? As they say,
'svakkhato bhagavata dhammo': 'The Dhamma of the Buddha is
rightly taught' -- rightly taught in a way clear to see, with
nothing hidden or esoteric. What's hidden about it? If we look with
our eyes, we'll see in line with what I've said here.

So.
Look on in, from the skin on in. Skin-scum and sweat-scum: Is there
anything good about them? Anything clean and beautiful? If they were
clean, how could we call them scum? Then look on inside. What is
there inside that can contend with the Dhamma and claim to be pretty
and beautiful? The Dhamma tells us that there's nothing pretty or
beautiful in there, that it's all filthy. So which part is going to
contend with the Dhamma of the Lord Buddha? If the Dhamma is
false, if the Buddha didn't teach it rightly, then find
something to prove it wrong. All of the things that the Dhamma
criticizes: When you penetrate into them with discernment, you'll
find that that's just how they are. There's no point with which you
can argue.

All of
these things have been true ever since before we investigated them,
but the defilements have closed our eyes to them. Even though we see
them, we don't see them for what they are. Even though filth fills
the body, the defilements deny it entirely and turn it into
something beautiful -- and we believe them, without looking at the
Dhamma that's waving its arms at us, ready to help us at all times,
as if it were calling to us: 'Hold on. Hold on to the Dhamma. Hurry
up, and you'll escape from danger. Hurry and let go of the
defilements. They're a fire burning you.'

See
what happens when you smash the defilements to bits. Fight with them
until you have no more breath to breathe. That's when the Dhamma
will fully reveal itself in every facet for you to see clearly. This
is the way of digging into the things that conceal so as to uncover
the truth: the genuine Dhamma. If we see the truth, we begin to see
the genuine Dhamma step by step. Even on the level of stillness,
we're already not embroiled with anything, because we have the savor
of the Dhamma. The heart can drink of the Dhamma: mental peace and
calm. The heart doesn't jump or run, isn't vain or proud, restless
or distracted, flying out after various preoccupations, because it
has found a satisfying food to sustain it.

When we
use discernment to investigate -- to prepare our food, so to speak
-- to make it even more exquisite than the food of tranquillity,
turning it into the food of discernment, this has a flavor even more
exquisite and refined, without limit, which comes from investigating
and analyzing the body, the theme of our meditation. The basic
principle on which we depend to counteract and remove the
defilements lies right here, which is why the Buddha focuses his
teachings right here. It wouldn't work to focus anywhere else,
because this is the primary place where living beings are attached.
Attachments outside come second to this. When we have investigated
so as to see in line with this truth, step by step, without
retreating in our investigation or letting it lapse until we have
clearly understood, then the point of 'enough' in our investigation,
together with the point where we let go of our attachments, will
appear of its own accord through the power of the discernment that
has removed all things concealing, has dismantled all things
counterfeit so as to see the truth clearly in the heart. Discernment
on this level will then stop of its own accord.

As for
the affairs of attachment, we needn't say anything, because they are
simply the results of delusion. Wherever knowledge penetrates,
delusion will immediately retreat, so how can attachment remain? It
will have to retreat without a doubt. The more we investigate in
preparing our food -- the flavor of the Dhamma -- through the power
of mindfulness and discernment, unraveling things to see them
clearly for what they are, the more the mind becomes light and airy.
Disenchanted and dismayed. 'How long have I been attached this way?
Why have I dared to make things up in such a bull-headed way?' This
is the exclamation with which we reproach ourselves -- because
things actually haven't been what we've made them up to be. So why
have we made them up that way? We then immediately see through the
make-believe that has led to this state of affairs, because
discernment is what penetrates and makes its choices. How will it
not know what's true and what's not? If we analyze the body to
pieces, we can clearly see that it's a living cemetery. When it
dies, it's a dead cemetery. How can we stand to look at it? Look all
over the world: Is there any place where there are no cemeteries?
There are cemeteries wherever living beings dwell.

Investigate on down to the truth. Is our discernment for us to make
into food? It's for us to cure our bankruptcy, so that we can escape
from being prisoners held in custody by the defilements. Why
shouldn't we be able to escape? The Dhamma of the Lord Buddha is
perfectly suited to us human beings, which is why he taught it to
the human world. He saw this as the central point of existence, the
most appropriate place. There's no one more intelligent than the
Buddha, the foremost Teacher who taught the Dhamma to the most
appropriate place: our human world.

At the
moment, what are we? We're human beings. Of this we're certain. In
addition, we're monks -- meditating monks at that, so why shouldn't
we be able to seize the excellence of the flavor of the Dhamma to
taste as our own treasure through our own practice? If we aren't
capable, who in the world is capable? To whom should we hand
over this capability? At the moment, whose hearts are being squeezed
by suffering and stress? Aren't these things squeezing our own
hearts? So to whom are we going to hand over this capability? To
whom are we going to hand over all the duties and responsibilities
involved in attaining freedom? Should we hand them over to
suffering? We already have suffering in our hearts. The only thing
to do is to remove suffering and stress through persistent effort.

We're
fighters. We have to be defiant. We can't let ourselves say retreat.
So. Whatever the pain, however great it may be, we're ready for it.
The pain and suffering that come with the effort won't lead us to
bankruptcy. They're better than the pain and suffering that are
already putting a squeeze on us at all times and serve no purpose at
all. So dig on down, meditators. This is one step in the
investigation.

The
Buddha teaches us to visit cemeteries because we don't yet see the
cemetery within. We first have to visit external cemeteries to open
the way for bringing the mind into our own internal cemetery. It's
full of corpses. Aside from the fact that the body itself is a
cemetery, the corpses of all sorts of animals fill our belly. What
sorts of things have been stuffed in there? For how long? Why don't
we look at this cemetery? Look so as to see it clearly.
Unattractiveness, inconstancy, stress, and not-self are all heaped
right here. We don't have to go looking for them anywhere else.

When we
look in terms of changeability -- inconstancy -- we can see it
clearly. The body keeps changing all the time, from the day it's
born to the day it dies. Even feelings keep changing in their way:
pleasure, pain, and indifference, both in body and mind. They keep
spinning around in this way. When do they ever stop? If we have any
mindfulness and discernment, why don't we see these things as they
do their work in line with their natural principles? If we use
our mindfulness and discernment, we have to see, we have to know.
These things can't be kept hidden. They can't be kept hidden from
mindfulness and discernment. We have to see right through them.
There's no doubt about this.

Stress.
Which part of the body gives us any pleasure or ease? There's
nothing but stress and pain filling the body. We've constantly had
to tend and care for the body so that it has been able to survive
this far, so are we still going to be attracted to this mass of
fire?

Not-self. The Buddha has already proclaimed it. 'It's not the self.
Don't mess with it.' As if he were slapping our wrists: 'Don't reach
for it. Don't touch. It's dangerous.' Whenever you say that it's you
or yours, your attachment is like grabbing fire, so extricate
yourself, using discernment. See these things as being truly
inconstant, stressful, and not-self. The mind then won't dare to
reach for them or touch them. Step by step it will let go of its
burdens -- its attachments, which are a heavy weight.

When
the mind extricates itself from its attachments, it becomes lighter
and lighter, more and more at ease. The savor of the Dhamma will
appear step by step, even more exquisite than on the level of
concentration. When the flavor of the Dhamma surpasses the flavor of
these various defilements, they have to be discarded and trampled
underfoot.

The
physical khandha -- the body -- is important. It has a really
great impact on the mind. To love it is to suffer. To hate it is to
suffer. To be angry with it is to suffer. The affairs connected with
the body are more prominent than any others. If the mind has no
stillness, there's nowhere it can find any relief. There's nowhere
we as monks can retreat to find any pleasure. For this reason, we
must try to still our minds and make use of the Dhamma to attack our
defilements.

Don't feel any regret for the time it takes. Don't feel any
regret for the cycles of rebirth, for the prison, for our wardens
and torturers: the various kinds of defilement. These have been our
greatest torturers from time immemorial. Even though we may not
remember for how long, simply hold to the principle of the present
as your primary guide and they'll all be scattered. The past, no
matter how long, is simply a matter of this same mass of suffering.
If we can't shed it, these things will have to continue this way
forever.

Don't
be interested in any other matters. Keep watch of the truth -- which
is within you, proclaiming itself at all times -- by using
mindfulness, discernment, conviction, and persistence. Don't let up
or retreat. Don't see anything as having greater value than the
effort of extricating yourself from these things that coerce and
oppress you. You'll then be able to make something extraordinary of
yourself. Whether or not you give yourself titles, make sure at
least that you aren't burdened or attached right here. This is where
the Buddha says the highest savor is found. Uproot the things that
involve and entangle you each step along the way. Keep cutting your
way in, beginning with the physical heap -- the body -- which is one
wall or one thick covering.

Once
you've passed the physical heap, ransacked this physical heap and
known it clearly with understanding, without any remaining ties,
it's as if you have amassed a large pile of capital, clear to your
heart. You can be certain of progressing to release at one point or
another in this present lifetime, with no need to anticipate it as
happening in this year or that. Once the mind has attained this
level, you can be sure of yourself. Persistence comes on its own.
The pain and difficulties that come from making the effort are
completely erased of their own accord, because the flavor of the
Dhamma appearing clearly to the heart has a power far overriding the
pains that come from the persistent effort. The heart becomes
motivated through the principles of its nature. Persistence keeps
spinning in the person who used to be lazy.

Laziness is a matter of the defilements resisting and fighting the
Dhamma. When we start out making the effort, then laziness,
weakness, discouragement, pain, and difficulty all come thronging
in, oppressing us so that we can't take a step, and we finally fall
down with a crash. That shows we've been shot. They don't have to
shoot us a second time. One shot and we're down -- down on the
pillow, snoring away. We keep getting shot by the defilements, again
and again, till we're thoroughly mangled. Our efforts don't amount
to anything. If this is the way things are, then we'll be sunk in
the round of rebirth, sunk in the prison of the wheel of rebirth
forever, with never a day when we'll gain release, never a day when
we'll be free.

So
slash away at the defilements, using the principles of the Dhamma
that the Buddha taught and aren't otherwise. You'll then have to
gain release from these things that coerce and oppress you without a
doubt. The important points are persistence, mindfulness,
discernment, and endurance. So. Keep enduring. What's wrong with
endurance for the sake of making your way? Other things you can
endure. Physical pain to the brink of death: No one else can endure
it for you. You have to endure it for yourself. Haven't you already
endured it before? So why can't you endure the pains and
deprivations that come with the effort of the practice? After all,
you endure them for the sake of the effort to extricate yourself
from suffering. So why can't you endure them? Make it strong, your
heart as a monk, your heart as a meditator. Once you've seen the
dangers pointed out by the Dhamma, you'll see the benefits arising
through your efforts.

In the
beginning, you have to grapple a great deal with the body as your
meditation theme. Once you've opened your way and seen causes and
results as your starting capital, then the four mental khandhas
-- vedana,sa˝˝a,sankhara, and vi˝˝ana
-- have already gotten into the act. There are feelings in the body
as well as in the mind, so when you're investigating the body, how
can these things not rush in to connect? They're related phenomena.
It's not the case that you finish investigating the body before you
start investigating vedana,sa˝˝a,sankhara,
and vi˝˝ana. Don't plan on things being that way, because
it's wrong. In the truth of the practice, that's not the way things
are. Once your work is focused on any one point, it has an impact
on everything else, but these things become prominent only after
the body has lost its meaning and value for us through the Dhamma.
Before, we saw it as having a great deal of meaning and value, but
once the Dhamma -- the truth -- has demolished the falsity of this
sort of defilement and craving, these things lose their meaning and
worth. The Dhamma now clearly has a value above and beyond them.
This is when vedana,sa˝˝a,sankhara, and
vi˝˝ana become prominent, because they've already opened the way
from the stage of the physical body.

What is
there to feelings? For the most part, they converge in on feelings
of the mind. As for physical feelings, I've already explained them
to you before. If you analyze them when you're sick or have been
sitting in meditation for a long time, you'll know them. If you want
to know them, focus on them today, using mindfulness and
discernment, and you'll understand them. You're sure to understand
them clearly if you use discernment. Don't simply endure them.
To contend with pain, you have to use discernment. Simply fighting
it, simply enduring it, doesn't count as the path. The path
is mindfulness and discernment. The greater the pain, the more these
things spin into work. You can't let mindfulness and discernment
leave the point of the pain. As for the body, each part will be seen
clearly as a reality in line with its nature, within the mind,
because in accordance with the principles of nature that's what they
already are.

No
matter how much pain arises in the body, it's its own separate
reality. Only the mind is what labels and interprets it. Once the
mind has used discernment to investigate the pain to the point of
being abreast of it, it will extricate itself from the pain to be
its own separate reality on this level, so that each is a separate
reality. When each is a separate reality, what harm can they do to
each other? What impact can they have on each other? None at all.
The body is the body, the pain is a pain, the heart is the heart,
i.e., the mind is the mind. Each is a separate reality, with no
impact on the others. Even if the pain doesn't subside, it has no
impact. It has no impact on the mind at all. This is called seeing
the truth. After you've done this many times, you'll be able to
uproot your attachments to the body, and the pain in the body will
be passed by as well. The only issue remaining will be feelings in
the mind.

Sa˝˝a
and sankhara are important. Once the body, the physical heap,
is passed, sa˝˝a and sankhara -- thought-formations --
become prominent because there are no more problems involving the
body. The mind isn't willing to investigate the body again, just as
when we've eaten enough of this sort of food, we put it aside and
continue eating whatever else still attracts us. When we're
completely full, we put it all aside, no matter what kind of food it
is, meat dishes or desserts. Our investigation is similar to this.
It tells us on its own. When the mind has had enough of anything, it
lets go and no longer investigates that thing. It then continues
with other things, in the same way that when we've eaten enough of
this sort of food, we go on to other sorts until we're completely
full. Then we put it all aside. Our investigation is so that we
will have enough and then let go.

Sankhara refers to the thought-formations in the mind -- good
thoughts, bad thoughts, this issue and that. They keep forming all
the time. Each of us falls for his or her own issues. Even if other
people don't become involved with us, the mind has to paint pictures
and form thoughts, past and future: a big turmoil within the heart.
We get infatuated with this preoccupation, saddened by that one.
Matters that passed months and years ago, we warm up and serve to
torment the mind, to oppress and coerce it, because of our delusion,
because of the fact that we aren't up on the tricks and deceits of
this sort of defilement. This is why we have to investigate them.
Whatever issues the mind forms, if they're good, they vanish; if
they're bad, they vanish -- so what sense or substance can we gain
from them? Wherever they arise, probe on down right there.

Sa˝˝a, labels and interpretations: They come labeling out of the
mind. This is how the mind appears when it reaches a refined level.
This is the way the natural principles of the investigation are of
their own accord. Even if no one tells us, we come to understand on
our own. Wherever anything makes contact, mindfulness and
discernment spin around right there until they understand and let
go.

Once
discernment has cut the bridge to the body, it has also cut the
bridges to external sights, sounds, smells, and tastes. The only
things left in the mind are feelings, labels, thought-formations,
and cognizance. These deal entirely with the mind itself. We
investigate at that point with discernment, without becoming
intimate with any of these four conditions. For example, feeling:
Pleasure arises and vanishes. Pain arises and vanishes, there in the
heart. The Buddha thus calls them inconstant and not-self.
Inconstant and not-self. They arise and vanish. Labels are also
inconstant, stressful, and not-self. What is there to become
attached to? They're just like the body. In other words, they're all
a heap of the three characteristics.

When we
have investigated them time and again, these four conditions shrink
into the mind. This is called giving chase to defilement. Probe into
that point with discernment until you know and see it clearly. When
the defilements can't find any place to hide, they'll go running
into the mind. Mindfulness and discernment then come spinning into
mano: the mind. This too the Buddha tells us not to hold
onto. Listen! The mind too is inconstant, stressful, and
not-self. Listen to that! How can the mind not share in the
three characteristics when the defilements are in there? How can we
hold to the mind as being us or ours when the entire army of
defilement is in there? If we hold to the mind as being us or ours,
it's the same as holding to defilement as being us or ours, so how
can we gain release? Very profound, this point of Dhamma, here on
the level of investigation.

The
mind too is inconstant, stressful, and not-self because the
defilements are in there. So strike on down with your investigation.
Whatever gets smashed -- even if ultimately the mind itself is
demolished along with everything else -- at least know it clearly
with your discernment.

The
defilement that forms the essence of the cycle (vatta) --
which in Pali is termed 'avijja-paccaya sankhara,' 'With
unawareness as condition, there occur mental formations': This is
the seed of becoming and birth, buried here in this mind. When its
bridges are cut, it can't find any way out to go looking for food.
The bridges out the eyes have been cut. The bridges out the ears,
nose, tongue, and body have all been cut by discernment. The
defilements can't find any way out to develop love for sights,
smells, tastes, or tactile sensations, because all their bridges
have been cut. We're abreast of things as they actually occur, so
the defilements go running inside. If they try to become attached to
the body, that's something we've already investigated and known with
discernment, something we've already let go. Feelings, labels,
thought-formations, and cognizance have all been investigated and
seen to have the three characteristics of inconstancy, stress, and
not-self, so where do the defilements lie? They have to be hiding in
the Big Cave: the mind. So discernment goes slashing in.

So now,
is the mind us? Is it ours? Slash on down! Whatever is going to be
destroyed, let it be destroyed. We feel no regrets. We want only
the truth. Even if the mind is going to be smashed and destroyed
along with everything else, let's at least know with our practice.
Strike on down! Ultimately, everything counterfeit gets smashed,
while the nature of pure truth, of supreme truth -- the pure mind --
doesn't die and isn't destroyed. See? So now whether you call it
inconstant, stressful, and not-self or not, at least make the mind
pure, and it will gain release from all conventional realities.
Inconstancy, stress, and not-self lie within the realm of
convention. Once the mind has gained release from these things,
there's nothing more that can be said -- even though we are
completely aware. So what is there now to doubt?

This is
release from the prison, from the cycle that imprisons living
beings, and us in particular -- our mind in particular, now
extricated right here. Freed right here. All that is needed is for
the defilements to be shed entirely from the heart: There is nothing
else to pose the heart any problems. This is thus called the
timeless heart, the timeless Dhamma, freed from time. It's a pure
nature, always fully 'buddho' like that.

At this
point, how can we not clearly see the harm of defilement? When such
things as mindfulness and discernment have trampled defilement to
bits, how can we not see its harm with our whole heart? How can we
not see through the happiness that the defilements bring to feed us
when we're ready to die, simply to keep us going? 'That's the
sugar-coated happiness concocted by the defilements simply to keep
us going. That's the flavor of defilement. But the flavor the Dhamma
is like this, something else entirely.' How can we help but know?

To
summarize, the mind that lies under the power of the cycle, with the
defilements coercing and oppressing it, is not at all different from
a convict in prison. When it has gained utter release from its
prison of defilement, there's no comparison for it. Even so, we
praise it as being supreme -- a convention, which doesn't really
correspond to that reality. But even though it doesn't correspond,
you can be assured that the difference is just like that, between
the mind imprisoned and the mind released from all coercion,
completely free and independent. They're different in just the way
that we've said.

So be
earnest and intent. You've come here for the purpose of learning and
finding things of substance and value for yourselves. Investigate so
as to see clearly in line with the principles of inconstancy,
stress, and not-self as I have mentioned, because they underlie the
way everything is throughout the three levels of the cosmos. There's
nothing splendid enough for us to feel regret at leaving it. The
only thing splendid is release. It's a nature truly splendid. We
don't have to confer titles on it, because it's its own nature. It
has had enough of everything of every sort. This is what is meant
when we say that the flavor of the Dhamma excels all other flavors.
Whatever kinds of flavors we may have experienced, the flavor of the
Dhamma excels them all, lets them all go, because no other flavor
can match it. Even this flavor, it isn't attached to. This flavor we
say is supreme isn't attached to itself. It's simply a principle of
truth, and that's all.

So. Be
earnest, meditators. Don't get discouraged. Give your life to the
Buddha. Even though we may have never said that we've given our life
to defilement, that's what we've done for an infinitely long time,
to the point where we can't count the times. Even in the single
lifetime of an individual, we can't count the times. Take the realm
of the present that's visible to us and work back to infinity: It's
all come from the avijja-paccaya sankhara embedded here in
the heart for countless lifetimes. Nothing else in the cosmos has
caused us to experience becoming and birth, and to carry the mass of
all sufferings, other than this avijja-paccaya sankhara.

For
this reason, when they say the mind of a person who dies is
annihilated, just where is it annihilated? Use the practice to get a
hold on the matter. Don't speak simply in line with the tricks and
deceits of defilement that close off our ears and eyes. Defilement
says that death is followed by annihilation. See? It's blinded us
completely. As for the defilement that causes people to take birth
and die, where is it annihilated? If we want to see through its
tricks and deceits, why don't we take its arrows to shoot it in
return? It causes living beings to lie buried in the cycle, so where
is defilement annihilated? And what does it coerce, if it doesn't
coerce the mind? If the mind is annihilated, how can defilement
coerce it? The mind isn't annihilated, which is why defilement has
been able to coerce it into birth, aging, illness, and death all
along without ceasing. So why do we fall for the deceits of
defilement when it says that death is followed by annihilation,
without having the sense to see the harm of its deceits? This sneaky
defilement has fooled living beings into falling for it and grabbing
at suffering for a long, infinitely long time.

So
investigate down to the truth. Find out what is and isn't
annihilated. That's when you can be called skilled at the Dhamma,
skilled at exploring and investigating down to the truth. That's how
the Buddha proclaimed and taught the Dhamma. He taught the Dhamma
using the truth he had already practiced by making the causes
absolutely complete and attaining results satisfactory to his heart,
and then taking that Dhamma to teach the world. So where did he ever
say that death is followed by annihilation, just where? He taught
nothing but birth, aging, illness, and death, birth, aging, illness,
and death, over and over. All of the Buddhas taught like this. They
never differed, because they all knew and saw the same sort of truth
in line with the principles of that truth. So how can you make the
mind be annihilated when it's already utterly true?

Birth
and death, birth and death without ceasing: What is the cause? The
Buddha has taught us, beginning with avijja-paccaya sankhara,
sankhara-paccaya vi˝˝ana -- 'With unawareness as condition,
there are formations. With formations as condition, there is
cognizance.' These are the causes. They're buried in the mind, which
is why they cause us to take birth without ceasing. As soon as we
destroy avijja-paccaya sankhara, what happens?
Avijjayatveva asesaviraga-nirodha sankhara nirodho -- 'All that
is needed is for unawareness to be completely disbanded from the
heart, then nirodho hoti -- everything else is disbanded.'
What do you say to that? Evametassa kevalassa dukkhakkhandhassa
nirodho hoti -- 'All that is needed is for unawareness to be
utterly disbanded, and everything -- the entire mass of suffering
and stress -- is disbanded.' And that which knows that unawareness
is disbanded, that's the pure one. How can that pure one
disband or be annihilated? It's an utter truth. So look. Listen. We
Buddhists take the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha as our refuge, you
know. We don't take the defilements as our refuge.

We're
meditators, so we have to probe and explore so as to see the truth.
Whoever may bring the entire cosmos to intimidate or take issue with
us, we won't bat an eye. Once we've seen and known the truth with
our full hearts, how can anyone intimidate us? Think for a minute:
The Buddha was a single, solitary person. Why was he able to be the
Teacher of all three levels of existence? If he didn't teach the
truth that he had known and seen with his full heart, what did he
teach? He taught with courage. There has never been anyone who has
excelled him in being thoroughly trained and bringing the pure truth
to teach the world. He didn't teach anything counterfeit or guessed
at. To speak out of guess-work, scratching at fleas: That's the
science of unawareness -- the science of unawareness that lulls the
world into bankruptcy. The principles of the genuine truth don't
teach us to be bankrupt, which is why we say that those other things
are counterfeit. The Dhamma is a truth on which we can stake our
life without question.

Defilements are false, the whole lot of them. 100 out of 100 are
counterfeit. The Dhamma is true -- 100 percent all true. The Dhamma
and defilement pass each other going in opposite directions, which
is why they are adversaries. In the effort of the practice, if we
don't fight with the defilements, what will we fight with? These are
our adversaries. If we don't fight with them, what will we fight
with? At the moment, the defilements are the adversaries of the
Dhamma. They're our adversaries. If we don't fight with the
defilements that are our adversaries and the Dhamma's, what will we
fight with? Once we know all about the affairs of the defilements,
what doubts will we have about the Dhamma? In particular, what
doubts will the mind have about the matter of death and rebirth or
death and annihilation? Find out just where things get annihilated,
meditators. Whatever we hear is the voice of those filthy
defilements. Aren't we tired of washing our ears? Listen to the
voice of the foremost Teacher's Dhamma. Our ears will then be clean,
and our hearts pure.

So be
earnest. Shilly-shallying around, thinking of sleep, thinking of our
stomachs: These are habits long embedded in our hearts. They're all
an affair of defilement. So flip over a new leaf, making the heart
an affair of the Dhamma, in keeping with the fact that we're
disciples of the Tathagata who have given ourselves to be ordained
in his religion and to follow the principles of his Dhamma. That's
when we'll attain a great treasure of infinite worth to rule our
hearts. When the Dhamma rules the heart, how is it different from
defilement ruling the heart? As I've said before, the Dhamma ruling
the heart is something supreme and magnificent: We're fully free
with our full heart -- not grasping, not hungry, not searching, not
hoping to depend on anything -- for the Dhamma has filled the heart
and that's plenty enough.

I can
tell a resolute person when I see him -- like our Ven. Acariya Mun.
It was intimidating just to look at him. How could the defilements
not be intimidated by him? Even we were intimidated by him, and the
defilements are smarter than we are, so how could they not be
intimidated? They had to be intimidated. That's the way
things have to be. A teacher who possesses the Dhamma, who possesses
virtue, has to be resolute so as to eliminate evil. He has to be
resolute. He can't not be resolute. The stronger the evil,
then the more resolute, the stronger his goodness has to be. It
can't not be resolute and strong. Otherwise it'll get knocked
out. Suppose this place were dirty: However dirty it might be, we
couldn't clean it just by splashing it with a glass of water, could
we? So how would we make it clean? We'd have to use a lot of water.
If this place were filled with a pile of excrement, we'd have to
splash it with a whole bucket -- and not just an ordinary bucket. A
great big one. A single splash, and all the excrement would be
scattered. The place would become clean because the water was
stronger.

Being
resolute is thus different from being severe, because it means being
earnest toward everything of every sort in keeping with reason. Take
this and think it over. If you act weakly in training yourself,
you're not on the path. You have to be strong in fighting with
defilement. Don't let the strong defilements step all over you. If
we don't have any way of fighting defilement -- if we're weak and
irresolute -- we're good for nothing at all.

Those
who want what is clean and good from the Dhamma: What is the Dhamma
like? What did the Buddha teach? What sort of defilements are
eliminated by what sort of Dhamma so that it deserves to be called
the middle way? The Buddha taught, 'The middle way realized by the
Tathagata -- producing vision, producing realization -- leads to
calm, to direct knowledge, to self-awakening, to nibbana.'
This is in the Discourse on Setting the Wheel of Dhamma in Motion.
The middle way is what can cause all these forms of knowledge to
arise. Realization: This is penetrative knowledge that's very
subtle and sharp. Even discernment is less penetrating and sharp
than it is. Self-awakening.Nibbana: This path leads
to nibbana. All of these things without exception come from
this middle way. They don't lie beyond range of this middle way at
all.

What
does it mean, the word 'middle'? Middleness as it is in reality and
the middleness we hear about, study, memorize, and speculate about:
Are they different? Very different. I'll give you an example.
Suppose there are two soldiers, both of whom have studied the full
course of military science. One of them has never been in the battle
lines, while the other has had a lot of experience in the battle
lines, to point where he has just barely escaped with his life.
Which of the two can speak more accurately and fluently about the
reality of fighting in a war? We have to agree without hesitation
that the soldier who has been in battle can speak of every facet in
line with the events he has seen and encountered to the extent that
he could come out alive. If he were stupid, he would have had to
die. He had to have been ingenious in order to survive.

So the
middle way: How is it 'middle'? We've been taught that following the
middle way means not being too lax, not being too extreme. So what
way do we follow so that it's not too lax or too extreme, so that
we're in line with the principle of middleness aimed at by the
genuine Dhamma? When we've sat a little while in meditation, we get
afraid that we'll ache, that we'll faint, we'll die, our body will
be crippled, or we'll go crazy, so we tell ourselves, 'We're being
too extreme.' See? Understand? If we think of making a donation, we
say, 'No. That'd be a waste. We'd do better to use it for this or
that.' So what is this? Do you understand whose 'middleness' this
is? If we're going to follow the way of the Dhamma, we say it's too
extreme, but if we're going to follow the way of defilement, then
we're ready for anything, without a thought for middleness at all.
So whose middleness is this? It's just the middleness of the
defilements, because the defilements have their middleness just like
we do.

When
people do good, want to go to heaven, want to attain nibbana,
they're afraid that it's craving. But when they want to go to hell
in this very life, you know, they don't worry about whether it's
craving or not. They don't even think about it. When they go into a
bar: Is this craving? They don't stop to think about it. When they
drink liquor or fool around with the ways to deprivation (apaya-mukha):
Is this the middle way or not? Is this craving? Is this defilement
or not? They don't bother to think. But when they think of turning
to the area of the Dhamma, then it becomes too extreme. Everything
becomes too extreme. What is this? Doesn't the thought ever occur to
us that these are the opinions of the defilements dragging us along?
The defilements dress things up just fine. Their real middleness is
in the middle of the pillow, the middle of the sleeping mat. As soon
as we do a little walking meditation and think buddho, dhammo,
sangho, it's as if we were being taken to our death, as if we
were tied to a leash like a monkey squirming and jumping so that
we'll let go of the buddho that will lead us beyond their
power. Whether we're going to give alms, observe the precepts, or
practice meditation, we're afraid that we're going to faint and die.
There's nothing but defilement putting up obstacles and blocking our
way. We don't realize what the middleness of defilement is like,
because it's been lulling us to sleep all along.

Just
now I mentioned the two soldiers who had studied military science,
one of whom had gone into battle while the other one hadn't. We can
compare this to studying the texts. Those who have gone into battle
-- who have had experience dealing with defilement and fighting with
defilement -- are the ones who can describe the middle way correctly
and accurately. If you simply study and memorize... Here I'm not
belittling study. Study all you can. Memorize all you can. I'm not
criticizing memorization. But if you simply memorize the names of
the defilements -- even if you memorize their ancestry -- it doesn't
mean a thing if you aren't intent on the practice. If you don't
practice, it's just like memorizing the names of different
criminals. What this or that gang of criminals does, how it makes
its money, what it likes to do, what their names are: We can
memorize these things. Not to mention just their names, we can even
memorize their ancestry, but if we don't get into action and deal
with them, those criminals whose names we can remember will keep on
harming the world. So simply memorizing names doesn't serve any
purpose. We have to get into action and lay down a strategy.
Where do those criminals rob and steal? We then take our strategy
and put it into practice, lying in wait for them this place and
that, until we can catch them. Society can then live in peace. This
is the area of the practice.

The
same holds true with defilements and mental effluents. We have to
practice. Once we know, we put our knowledge into practice. What is
it like to give alms? We've already given them. What is it like to
observe the precepts? We've already observed them. What is it like
to meditate? We've already done it. This is called practice. It's
not that we simply memorize that giving alms has results like that,
observing the precepts has results like this, meditation has results
like that, heaven is like this, nibbana is like that. If we
simply say these things and memorize them, without being interested
in the practice, we won't get to go there, we won't get any of the
results.

So now
to focus down on the practice of fighting with defilement: The
defilements have been the enemies of the Dhamma from time
immemorial. The Buddha has already taught that the defilements are
the enemies of the Dhamma. Where do they lie? Right here -- in the
human heart. Where does the Dhamma lie? In the human heart. This is
why human beings have to fight defilement. In fighting the
defilements, there has to be some suffering and pain as a matter of
course. Whatever weapons they use, whatever their attack, whatever
their tactics, the Dhamma has to go spinning on in. The ways of
sidestepping, fighting, jabbing, attacking: the ways of eliminating
defilement all have to be in line with the policies of the Dhamma --
such as Right Views and Right Attitudes -- spinning back and forth.
Gradually the defilements collapse through our practice. This is
what is meant by the middle way.

So. Go
ahead and want. Want to gain release from suffering. Want to gain
merit. Want to go to heaven. Want to go to nibbana. Go ahead
and want as much as you like, because it's all part of the path.
It's not the case that all wanting is craving (tanha). If we
think that all wanting is craving, then if we don't let there be
craving, it's as if we were dead. No wanting, no anything: Is that
what it means not to have defilement or craving? Is that kind of
person anything special? It's nothing special at all, because it's a
dead person. They're all over the place. A person who isn't dead has
to want this and that -- just be careful that you don't go wanting
in the wrong direction, that's all. If you want in the wrong
direction, it's craving and defilement. If you want in the right
direction, it's the path, so make sure you understand this.

The
stronger our desire, the more resolute our persistence will be.
Desire and determination are part of the path, the way to gain
release from stress. When our desire to go heaven, to attain
nibbana, to gain release from stress is strong and makes us
brave in the fight, then our persistence, our stamina, our fighting
spirit are pulled together into a single strength by our desire to
attain nibbana and release from stress. They keep spinning
away with no concern for day or night, the month or the year. They
simply keep at the fight all the time. How about it? Are they
resolute now? When the desire gets that strong, we have to be
resolute, meditators. No matter how many defilements there are, make
them collapse. We can't retreat. We're simply determined to make the
defilements collapse. If they don't collapse, then we're prepared to
collapse if we're no match for them. But the word 'lose' doesn't
exist in the heart. If they kick us out of the ring, we climb right
back in to fight again. If they kick us out again, we climb back in
again and keep on fighting. After this happens many times, we can
start kicking the defilements out of the ring too, you know. After
we're been kicked and hit many times, each time is a lesson.

Wherever we lose to defilement, whatever tactics the defilements use
to beat us, we use their tactics to counteract them. Eventually
we'll be able to stand them off. As the defilements gradually become
weaker, the matters of the Dhamma -- concentration, mindfulness,
discernment, persistence -- become stronger and stronger. This is
where the defilements have to grovel, because they're no match.
They're no match for the Dhamma. Before, we were the only ones
groveling. Wherever we groveled, we'd get kicked by the defilements.
Lying down, we'd cry. We'd moan. Sitting, we'd moan. Standing, we'd
feel desire. Walking, we'd feel desire and hunger. Wherever we'd go,
there'd be nothing but love, hate, and anger filling the heart.
There'd be nothing but defilement stomping all over us. But once
these things get struck down by mindfulness, discernment,
conviction, and persistence, they don't exist no matter where we go
-- because the defilements are groveling. They keep on groveling,
and we keep on probing for them without let up. Whenever we find
one, we kill it. Whenever we find one, we kill it, until the
defilements are completely eradicated, with nothing left in the
heart. So now when we talk about defilement, no matter what the
kind, we can talk without hesitation. Whatever tricks and tactics we
employed to shed the defilements, we can describe without
hesitation. The purity of the heart that has no more defilements
ruining it as before, we can describe without hesitation.

This is
like the person who has gone into battle and can speak without
hesitation. It's not the same as when we simply memorize. If we
simply memorize, we can speak only in line with the texts. We can't
elaborate the least little bit. We don't know how. But a person who
has gone into battle knows all the ins and outs -- not simply that
military science says to do things like this or to follow that
route. He can make his way through every nook and cranny, every zig
and zag, depending on what he needs to do to get to safety or gain
victory. A fighter takes whatever means he can get.

It's
the same with us in fighting defilement. Whatever approach we should
use to win, the Buddha provides all the weapons of the Dhamma for us
to think up with our own mindfulness and discernment. We people
never run out of rope, you know. When we really come to the end of
our rope, then mindfulness and discernment produce ways for us to
help ourselves so that we can bash the defilements to bits, until no
more defilements are left. From that point on, wherever the
defilements bring in their armies, in whoever's heart, we know them
all -- because they've been entirely eliminated from ours.

This is
the practice. This is what's called the middle way. When the
defilements come swashbuckling in, the middle way goes swashbuckling
out. If they bring in a big army, the middle way has to fight them
off with a big army. If they're hard-hitting, we're hard-hitting. If
they're dare-devils, we're dare-devils. This is what's meant by the
middle way: the appropriate way, appropriate for defeating the
armies of the enemy. If their army is large while ours is small and
our efforts few, it just won't work. We'll have to lose. However
large their army, however many their weapons, our army has to be
larger and our weapons more. Only then will we win. This is what's
called the army of the Dhamma. However large the army of defilement
may be, mindfulness, discernment, conviction, and persistence have
to go spinning in and treat them with a heavy hand. Finally, the
defilements fall flat on their backs, and we won't have to chant a
funeral service for them. We've gained the superlative Dhamma.

When
the defilements have fallen flat on their backs, we aren't worried
about where we'll live in the cosmos. Why ask? We're not interested
in whether we'll be reborn in heaven, in the Brahma worlds, or in
hell after we die. There is nothing that knows more than the heart.
Normally, the heart is already a knower, so now that it knows
clearly in line with reason, in line with the Dhamma, what is there
to wonder about?

This is
why there is only one Buddha at a time -- because a Buddha arises
with difficulty, gains release with difficulty. He's the first to
gain Awakening, making his way all by himself past the enemy army of
defilement, craving, and mental effluents, to proclaim the Dhamma to
the world so that we can study it and put it into practice, which is
our great good fortune. We've been born right in the midst of the
Buddha's teachings, so be earnest in practicing them so as to profit
from them. The teachings of the Lord Buddha aren't a child's doll or
plaything, you know.

The
Dhamma is sanditthiko -- directly visible. The teachings of
the Buddha are the open market of the paths, fruitions, and
nibbana. They're never out of date -- unless we're out of date,
which is why we let the defilements fool us into thinking that the
Dhamma is out of date; that people who practice the Dhamma are
old-fashioned and out of date; that people who enter monasteries are
old-fashioned and out of date; that the teachings of the religion
have no paths or fruitions any more; that the paths, fruitions, and
nibbana don't exist; that no matter how much you practice,
you'll just wear yourself out in vain. These things are nothing but
defilement deceiving us -- and we believe everything it says, so we
keep going bankrupt without even a scrap of good to our names. Why
are we willing to believe it so thoroughly?

'Kilesam
saranam gacchami' -- I go to defilement for refuge.' We've never
said it. All we say is 'buddham dhammam sangham saranam gacchami'
-- I go to the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha for refuge,' but when the
defilements give us a single blow, we fall flat on our backs. What
good does it accomplish? What does 'Buddham saranam gacchami'
mean? Nothing but Kilesam saranam gacchami. Even though we
never say it, our beliefs fall in line with defilement without our
even thinking about it. This is called Kilesam saranam gacchami.
The grandchildren of defilement we saranam gacchami. The
grandparents of defilement we saranam gacchami. Everything
about the defilements we grovel and saranam gacchami. We're
all a bunch of kilesam saranam gacchami. Think it over.

So be
resolute, meditators. Desire to see the truth. It's there in the
heart of every person. The Buddha didn't lay any exclusive claims to
it. All that's needed is that you practice. Don't doubt the paths,
fruitions, and nibbana. When are the defilements ever out of
date? They're in our hearts at all times. Why don't we ever see them
being accused of being out of date? 'Every kind of defilement is
old-fashioned. The defilements are out of style, so don't have
anything to do with them.' I don't see us ever give a thought to
criticizing them. So how is it that the Dhamma that remedies
defilement is out of existence? The Dhamma is a pair with
defilement, but defilement simply lulls us to sleep so that we won't
use the Dhamma to defeat it. It's afraid of losing its power --
because defilement is intimidated by the Dhamma, which is why it
deceives us into not heading towards the Dhamma. So remember this.

Very
well, then. I'm tired of preaching to meditators who Kilesam
saranam gacchami.

...I
don't know where my courage came from. Just think -- the fear I used
to feel for Ven. Acariya Mun, I didn't feel at all. I was bold. I
wanted to speak. I wanted to tell him what I had experienced. The
mind was impetuous and spoke right up without any fear. That was
when he got to see my true nature. Before that, I had never shown
anything at all. No matter what the mind had been like, I had never
behaved that way; but once this awareness arose, I went up to see
him when there were just the two of us and told him right away. It
was as if he were the master of a dog, urging me on to bite the
defilements. Ven. Acariya Mun -- who could be more astute than he?
As soon as I went up to see him, I started right in speaking without
any fear.

Once
the mind knows the truth, together with how it has contemplated, it
can describe it all, including the results that appear. It can
describe them in full detail. While I was speaking, he listened in
silence. As for me, I kept right on going. 'This crazy guy doesn't
just fool around' -- that's probably what he was thinking. 'When his
madness is on the rise, he's really in earnest.' That's probably
what he said to himself.

As soon
as I had finished, he burst right out: 'That's the way it's got to
be!' He really got going, and I bowed down and listened. 'We don't
die up to five times in a single lifetime,' he said. 'We die only
once. So keep on striking away. You've finally caught on to the
basic principle. You've finally got it, so keep wrestling with it.'
I was like a dog he spurred on -- I was so happy. Coming away from
him, I was ready to bark and to bite. I kept fighting away. That is,
I continued sitting all night in meditation and kept telling him the
Dhamma I had gained. Sitting in meditation all night -- I did it
more than nine or ten times that Rains Retreat, and I wasn't just
sitting as normal, because I was wrestling with my full strength,
both because of the marvels I was seeing and because of my
frustration over the way my mind had regressed earlier. These two
got added together, so that the mind had the full strength of
frustration and daring. As time passed though, Ven. Acariya Mun
finally gave me a warning -- a single flash: 'The defilements
don't lie in the body,' he said. 'They lie in the heart.'

He then
gave a comparison with a horse. 'When a horse is unruly and won't
listen to its master, the master has to give it really harsh
treatment. If he has to make it starve, he should make it starve --
really treat it harshly until it can't make a move. Once it finally
stops being rebellious, though, he can let up on the harsh
treatment. When its rebelliousness weakens, the harsh treatment can
be relaxed.' That's all he said -- and I understood immediately. If
he had said more than that... He knew what sort of person I was: He
was afraid I'd go completely limp. So he gave just a flash of a
warning, and I understood...

The
important point for a meditating monk is to have principles in the
heart. 'Principles in the heart' means the various stages of
concentration and levels of discernment, all the way to the level of
arahantship. These are called the principles in the heart for
meditating monks. If the principles in the heart are good, every
aspect of the principles in our practice will be good as well,
because the heart is what gives the orders. This is why we see the
heart as having primary importance. When a person with principles
in the heart practices, it's very different from a person without
principles in the heart. When a person with principles in the
heart makes compromises in line with events at some times, in some
places, and with some individuals, and when he is strict with
himself at normal times, he does so with reason -- which is
different from a person who is simply determined, without having
principles in the heart. Even though such a person may be resolute
and courageous, he's pervaded with error, pride, and conceit. He's
not as even as he should be in his ascetic practices (dhutanga),
which are means of cleansing away the defilements of pride and
conceit fermenting inside him. The body is an affair of the world,
like the world in general. It has to be involved with the world,
which requires compromises with certain people, in certain places,
and on certain occasions. But if, when we have to make compromises,
we can't do so for fear that we're sacrificing our strictness or our
ascetic practices; or if once we compromise we can't return to our
strictness, it's a matter of pride in either case and can't help but
have an impact on ourselves and on others both when we should be
strict and when we should make compromises in line with events.

When a
person with principles in the heart sees fitting, in line with
reason, he makes compromises when he should with certain
individuals, places, and events that may happen from time to time.
But when that necessity is past, he returns to his original
strictness without any difficulty in forcing himself. This is
because reason, the Dhamma, is already in charge of his heart, so he
has no difficulties both when making compromises and when following
the ascetic practices strictly as he is accustomed to.

All of
this is something I practiced when living with Ven. Acariya Mun. For
example, I'd vow to follow a particular practice or several
practices without telling him -- although he would know perfectly
well, because I couldn't keep it secret from him. But because of my
great respect for him, I'd have to make compromises, even though it
bothered me (bothered my defilements).

As a
rule, I wouldn't be willing to make compromises at all. That was a
feeling set up like a barrier in the mind, because my intentions
were really determined like that. I wouldn't let anything pass
without my working right through it with this determination of mine.

The
first year I went to stay with him, I heard him talk about the
ascetic practices -- such as the practice of accepting only the food
received on one's alms round -- because he himself was very strict
in observing them. From that point on, I'd vow to take on special
ascetic practices during the Rains Retreat, without ever slacking.
I'd vow to eat only the food I got while on my alms round. If anyone
else would try to put food in my bowl aside from the food I had
received on my round, I wouldn't accept it and wouldn't be
interested in it. Ever since then, I've kept to this without fail.
I'd be sure that I for one wouldn't let this vow be broken. Once the
Rains Retreat came, I'd have to make this vow as a rule in my heart,
without missing even a single year.

The
years we spent the rains at Baan Naa Mon, Ven. Acariya Mun was
really observant and astute. Of all the sages of our day and age,
who could be sharper than he? He knew I had vowed not to accept food
that came afterwards, but on the occasions he would come to put food
in my bowl, he'd say, 'Maha, please let me put a little food in your
bowl. This is a gift from one contemplative to another.' That's what
he'd say. 'This is a gift from a fellow contemplative. Please accept
it.' That meant he was giving me the food himself.

Sometimes there'd be groups of lay people from Nong Khai, Sakon
Nakhorn, or other places who would come to Baan Naa Mon to present
food to Ven. Acariya Mun and the other monks in the monastery. This
would happen once in a long, long while, because in those days there
were no cars or buses. You'd have to travel on foot or by cart.
These people would hire ox-carts to come and would spend a night or
two -- but they wouldn't stay with the monks in the monastery.
They'd stay in the shack in Yom Phaeng's rice field. When morning
came, they'd prepare food and, instead of waiting outside the
monastery to place the food in our bowls as we returned from our
alms round, they'd bring it into the monastery to present it to us.
I wouldn't dare accept their food, for fear that my observance would
be broken. I'd walk right past them. As I noticed, though, Ven.
Acariya Mun would accept their food out of pity for them.

There
would be a lot of food left over from presenting it to the monks, so
they'd bring it to the meeting hall -- fruit, individual servings of
food wrapped in banana leaves -- but we wouldn't take any of it.
It'd get passed around without making a ripple. No one, except
sometimes one or two of the monks, would take any of it. It must
have looked not just a little strange to the lay people. As for me,
I wouldn't dare take any of it, for fear that my observance of this
ascetic practice would be broken. Several days later, Ven. Acariya
Mun asked to put food in my bowl, saying, 'This is a gift from a
fellow contemplative. Please let me put it in your bowl.' And then
he put it in my bowl. He did it himself, you know. Normally -- who
would I let put anything in my bowl! I'd be afraid that my
observance would be broken or at the very least wouldn't be
complete. But he probably saw that there was pride lurking in my vow
to observe this practice, so he helped bend it a little to give me a
number of things to think about, so that I wouldn't be simply a
straight-arrow type. This was why he'd find various ways to teach me
both directly and indirectly.

I in
particular was very straight-arrow. I was very set on things in that
way, which is why I wouldn't let anyone destroy my ascetic practice
by putting food in my bowl -- except for Ven. Acariya Mun, whom I
respected with all my heart. With him, I'd give in and let him put
food in my bowl the times he saw fit. I was solidly determined not
to let this observance be deficient, not even the least little bit.
This was something that kept chafing in the heart. I'd have to be
complete both in terms of the observance I was following and in
terms of my determination, but because of my love and respect for
him, I'd accept his gifts even though I didn't feel comfortable
about it. This is the difference between a principle in the practice
and a principle in the heart.

I admit
that I was right in the earnestness of my practice, but I wasn't
right in terms of the levels of Dhamma that were higher and more
subtle than that. Looking at myself and looking at Ven. Acariya
Mun, I could see that we were very different. Ven. Acariya Mun, when
looking at something, would see it thoroughly, in a way that was
just right from every angle in the heart -- which wasn't like the
rest of us, who would view things in our stupid way from one side
only. We didn't use discernment the way he did. That was something
we'd have to admit. Here I've been talking about practicing the
Dhamma with Ven. Acariya Mun at Baan Naa Mon.

When we
moved to Baan Nong Phue, I vowed again to observe this particular
practice. Wherever I'd go, I'd stick to my guns as far as this
practice was concerned and wouldn't retreat. I wouldn't let it be
broken. Coming back from my alms round, I'd quickly put my bowl in
order, taking just a little of whatever I'd eat -- because during
the rains I'd never eat my fill. I'd never eat my fill at all. I'd
tell myself to take only so-and-so much, around 60 to 70 percent.
For example, out of 100 percent full, I'd cut back about 30 to 40
percent, which seemed about right, because there were a number of us
living together as a group. If I were to go without food altogether,
it wouldn't be convenient, because we always had duties involved
with the group. I myself was like one of the senior members of the
group, in a behind-the-scenes sort of way, though I never let on. I
was involved in looking after the peace and order within the group
in the monastery. I didn't have much seniority -- just over ten
rains in the monkhood -- but it seemed that Ven. Acariya Mun was
kind enough to trust me -- also behind the scenes -- in helping him
look after the monks and novices.

When
the rains would begin, all of us in the monastery would vow to
observe different ascetic practices, and after not too many days
this or that person would fall back. This showed how earnest or
lackadaisical the members of the group were, and made me even more
meticulous and determined in my duties and my ascetic practices.
When I'd see my fellow meditators acting like this, I'd feel
disillusioned with them in many ways. My mind would become even more
fired up, and I'd encourage myself to be unrelenting. I'd ask
myself, 'With events all around you like this, are you going to fall
back?' And the confident answer I'd get would be, 'What is there to
fall back? Who is this if not me? I've always been this sort of
person from the very beginning. Whatever I do, I have to take it
seriously. Once I decide to do something, I have to be earnest with
it. I don't know how to fool around. I won't fall back unless I die,
which is something beyond my control. I won't let anyone put food in
my bowl under any circumstances.' Listen to that -- 'under any
circumstances.' That was how I felt at the time.

So the
changes in my fellow meditators were like a sermon for me to listen
to and take to heart. I haven't forgotten it, even to this day. As
soon as I returned from my alms round, I'd quickly take whatever I
was going to eat, put my bowl in order, and then quickly prepare
whatever I had that I'd put in Ven. Acariya Mun's bowl -- this or
that serving that I had noticed seemed to go well with his health,
as far as I knew and understood. I'd set aside whatever should be
set aside and prepare whatever should go into his bowl. Then I'd
return to my seat, my eyes watchful and my ears ready to hear
whatever he might say before we'd start eating.

As for
my own bowl, when I had put it in order, I'd put it out of the way
behind my seat, right against the wall next to a post. I'd put the
lid on and cover it with a cloth to make doubly sure that no one
would mess with it and put any food in it. At that time I wouldn't
allow anyone to put food in my bowl at all. I made that clear in no
uncertain terms. But when Ven. Acariya Mun put food in my bowl, he'd
have his way of doing it. After I had prepared the food I would give
to him and had returned to my place; after we had given our
blessings and during the period of silence when we were
contemplating our food -- that's when he'd do it: right when we were
about to eat. I have no idea where he had arranged the food to put
in my bowl -- but he wouldn't do it repeatedly. He knew and he
sympathized with me. On the occasions when he'd put food in my bowl,
he'd say, 'Maha, please let me put food in your bowl. These lay
people came late...' -- and his hand was already in my bowl -- right
when I had placed my bowl in front of me and was contemplating my
food. I didn't know what to do, because of my respect for him. So I
had to let him do it in his kindness -- but I wouldn't let anyone
else do it. He'd do it only once in a long while. In one Rains
Retreat, he'd do it only three or four times at most. He wouldn't do
it repeatedly, because he was every astute. The word majjhima
-- just right: You'd have to hand it to him, without being able to
find anything to fault.

So ever
since then I've stuck to my practice all along, up to the present.
As for the monks and novices who couldn't get it together, they all
ended up in failure, which has made me think -- made me think
without ceasing -- about my fellow meditators: 'What is it with
their hearts that they don't have any firm principles, that they
keep failing like this? What mainstay can they have for the future
when the present is already a failure?' Events like this have kept
me thinking in this way without ceasing, all the way up to the
meditators who are living with me at present.

For
this reason, the ascetic observances are very important principles
in the practice. Eating from the bowl: There are many people, monks
among them, who don't see the value of eating from the bowl. In
addition to not seeing the value of this ascetic practice, they may
see it as unbecoming or inappropriate, both in the monastery and in
society at large, in that all sorts of food -- meat dishes,
desserts, etc. -- get mixed together in the one bowl. They may even
think that it's ugly or messy -- which is an opinion of the
defilements trying to efface the truth of the Dhamma. There are few
who see the value of any of the thirteen ascetic practices, even
though all thirteen are tools for us monks to wash away defilement.
It's well known that the defilements and the Dhamma have always
worked at cross-purposes from time immemorial. Those who give their
hearts and lives in homage to the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha will
practice in line with what the Buddha taught. Those who give their
hearts and lives in homage to the cycle of defilement will practice
in line with the opinions of defilement. So to whom are we going to
pay homage now? Hurry up and decide. Don't delay. Otherwise the
defilements will pull you up to the chopping block -- don't say I
didn't warn you. The Dhamma has already been taught, so hurry up and
start walking. Don't waste your time being afraid that it's out of
date, or you won't be able to make a step.

Pansukula-civaram -- the practice of wearing robes made from
cast-off cloth: This is to counteract our feeling for price,
ostentation, pride, and excess -- the type of beauty that promotes
defilement and steps all over the Dhamma -- so that these things
don't encumber the hearts of meditators whose duty is to eliminate
the defilements in order to promote the Dhamma and nourish the heart
to be gracious and fine. The items of consumption we collect from
what is thrown away are good for killing the defilements of greed,
ostentation, and excess, love for beauty and haughtiness. Sages have
thus praised and followed this practice all along up to the present.
We can see their footprints in using this method to kill defilement
as a treat for our hearts and eyes so that we won't die in vain in
having followed the homeless life.

The
practice of going for alms: This is so that we'll perform our
duties in line with the Buddha's instructions --
pindiyalopa-bhojanam nissaya pabbajja, 'The life gone forth is
supported by means of almsfood' -- instructions we received on the
day of our ordination. Don't be lazy. Don't forget yourself because
of whatever other gifts of food you may receive. Whoever may present
them, see them as extraneous. They're not more necessary than the
food we get by going for alms with the strength of our own legs --
which is our duty as monks who do their work properly. This is the
really appropriate way to gain food in line with the
pindiyalopa-bhojanam in the instructions we receive during our
ordination. Listen! It's fitting, appropriate, which is why the
Buddha taught us to go for alms, something of first-place importance
in our pure work as monks.

The
Buddha went for alms throughout his career. The few times he didn't
were when he was staying in a place where it wasn't appropriate --
as when he was living in the Prileyya Forest, and the elephants
looked after him because there were no people around. So there were
only a few times when the Buddha made exceptions to this practice.
Pubbanhe pindapatanca -- in the five duties of the Buddha --
'In the morning he would go for alms for the sake of the beings of
the world.' Listen to that!

Sayanhe
dhamma-desanam:
At four in the afternoon he would give instructions to his lay
following: kings, generals, financiers, landowners, merchants, and
ordinary people in general.

Padose bhikkhu-ovadam: After dark he would exhort the monks.
This is the second of his duties as a Buddha.

Addharatte deva-panhanam: After midnight he would answer the
questions posed by the various levels of the heavenly beings -- from
the lowest up to the highest -- and give them instructions. This is
the third of his duties.

Bhabbabhabbe vilokanam: In the last watch of the night he would
survey the beings of the world, using his superior intuition to see
what beings might be caught in the net of his knowledge whom he
should go to teach first -- whoever might be prepared to receive the
teaching and whose lives might be in danger, so that he shouldn't
wait long before going to teach them. This is the fourth duty.

Pubbanhe pindapatanca: The following morning he would then go
out for alms on a regular basis. These are the five duties of the
Buddha that he normally wouldn't abandon. He'd abandon them only on
special occasions. For example, going for alms: When he was staying
in the Prileyya Forest, he couldn't go for alms, so he put that duty
aside. But otherwise he viewed going for alms as a necessary duty,
which is why we have to teach monks to view going for alms as a
right activity, as extremely appropriate work. For monks, there is
no work in searching for their livelihood more appropriate than
going for alms. No matter who might have the faith to bring gifts of
food, no matter how much, we should view it as extraneous gains, a
luxury, and not as more necessary than the food gained by going for
alms. This is so that we don't forget ourselves and become entangled
in that sort of thing.

The
Buddha teaches monks not to forget themselves, not to be lazy,
because the defilement of laziness is important, and to forget
ourselves is no mean vice -- for we tend to become haughty when
there are many people respecting us, and especially when they are
people of high status. When we have a large following, we tend to
throw out our chest and put on airs. Even though we don't have
stripes, it's as if we paint them on to be a royal tiger showing off
his rank. Since when were they ever a small matter, the defilements
of monks? This is why the Buddha taught us to stamp out these ugly
defilements in the society of Buddhists and monks by not forgetting
ourselves. However many people come to respect us, that's their
business. Our business is not to forget our duties. Don't forget
that monks' business is monks' business. To forget yourself is
none of your business as a monk. Even lay people who are mindful
don't forget themselves. They're always even in the way they place
themselves in relation to others. We're monks -- meditating monks at
that -- which is even more of a delicate matter. It's our business
to be mindful of ourselves and to use our discernment to scrutinize
events that come to involve us at all times, not to be careless and
forgetful in any circumstances. This is how we show our colors as
monks who see danger in what is dangerous.

We are
members of the Sakyan lineage, the lineage of the Buddha, who was
sharper and more intelligent than anyone else in the three levels of
the cosmos. For what reason, should we make fools of ourselves over
the baits of the world, which fill the earth and aren't anywhere
nearly as difficult to find as the Dhamma? To forget ourselves, to
swell up with pride because of extraneous gains or the respect of
people at large: Is this our proper honor and pride as sons of the
Sakyan? It's simply because we see the superlative Dhamma as
something lower than these things that we monks don't think or come
to our senses enough to fear their danger in the footsteps of our
Teacher.

Sakkaro purisam hanti -- 'Homage kills a man.' Fish die because
they are tempted by bait. If we monks don't die because of things
like this, what does make us die? Consider this carefully. Did the
Buddha give this teaching to stupid fish or to those of us monks who
are moving toward the hook at the moment? Be aware of the fact that
the outside is bait, but inside the bait is the hook. If you don't
want to meet with disaster, be careful not to bite the hook.

Eating from the bowl: This is a very important activity, but we
don't see its importance. Ordinarily, we who have ordained in the
religion have no vessel for our food more appropriate than our bowl.
Even monogrammed plates and gold platters aren't more appropriate
than the bowl. Only the bowl is appropriate for monks when they eat.
Nothing else is better or more fitting. We each have only one bowl
and put everything in there together. The Buddha has already set us
a solid example.

Or is
it that when food gets mixed together like that, it'll spoil our
digestion -- as most people say, and we've already heard many times.
If that's the case, then when it all gets mixed in the stomach,
won't it spoil our digestion? How many stomachs do we have in our
belly? How many vessels are in there for us to put our separate
sorts of food in? This one for desserts, this one for meat dishes,
this one for spicy curry, this one for hot curry: Are there any? Are
there different vessels for putting our separate sorts of food in,
to keep our digestion from spoiling? We simply see that when food is
mixed in the bowl, it'll spoil our digestion, but not when it's
mixed in the stomach. This view -- fearing that our digestion will
be spoiled -- is for the sake of promoting our tongues and stomachs,
not for promoting the mind and the Dhamma through our various
practices.

If
there is anything toxic in the food -- whether or not it's mixed in
the bowl -- then when it's eaten, it can spoil our digestion, with
no relation to whether or not it's mixed together, because the
toxicity lies with the things that are toxic, and not with the
mixing together. When it's eaten, it's toxic. But if the food isn't
toxic, then when it's mixed it isn't toxic, so where will it get any
toxicity? The food is beneficial, without any harm or toxicity mixed
in. When it's placed together in the bowl, it's still food. When
it's eaten and goes to the stomach, it's a benefit to the body.

So we
as monks and meditators should be observant of the differences
between Dhamma and not-Dhamma, which are always effacing each other.
For example: Eating food from the bowl spoils your digestion. Eating
outside of the bowl improves your digestion and fattens the
defilements -- but the Dhamma grovels and can't get up because
not-Dhamma has kept stomping on it in this way without mercy from
every side all along.

Actually, when food is mixed in the bowl, it's an excellent sermon.
Before eating, we contemplate. While eating, we contemplate the
incongruity of food and we're bound to get unusual tactics for
training the mind from the food that is mixed together -- because we
don't eat for enjoyment, for beautification, for pride, or for
recklessness. We eat enough to keep the body going, to practice the
holy life so as to take the defilements and the mental effluents --
poisons that are buried deep, cluttering the heart -- and wash them
away by contemplating them aptly, using these ascetic practices as
our tools.

Refusing food that is brought afterwards: This too is to prevent
us from being greedy and forgetting ourselves. Even when there's a
lot of food -- more than enough -- greed, you know, has no land of
enough. That's good. This is good. The more food there is, the wider
our mouth, the longer our tongue, the bigger our stomach. These are
always overtaking the Dhamma without let-up. This is sweet. That's
aromatic. This is rich -- everything keeps on being good. There's no
brake on our wheels -- no mindfulness -- at all. Actually, the word
'good' here is a title conferred by defilement to erase our
contentment with little, our fewness of wants as meditators, without
our realizing it. This is why we tend to be carried away by the
lullaby of the defilements' word 'good.'

As for
whether the Dhamma is good or not, that's another matter entirely.
If the food is sweet, we know. If it's aromatic, we know. If the
mind is attached to the flavor, we have to try to know. To be
careful. To thwart the defilement that wants to get a lot and eat a
lot. The Dhamma has us take just enough, or just a little, in
keeping with the Dhamma; to eat just enough for the body, or just a
little, without being greedy for food or other items of consumption.
We eat just enough to keep going. We aren't stuffed and lethargic,
aiming more at our beds than at the persistent effort to abandon
defilement.

We
monks, when we eat a lot and have a lot of extraneous gains, get fat
and strong, but the mind forgets itself and doesn't feel like
meditating. This is good for nothing at all. We simply have food
fattening the body, without any Dhamma to fatten the mind. The mind
that used to have Dhamma to some extent gets thinner and more
emaciated day by day. If it's never had any Dhamma -- such as the
Dhamma of concentration -- the situation is even worse. It has no
goals at all. The ascetic practices thus have to put a brake on our
greed for food so that the mind can have a chance to follow the
Dhamma. The defilements won't have to be fattened, the body will be
light, the mind will be still and light while making its effort --
more easily stilled than when the belly is stuffed tight with food.
This is something really embarrassing in meditating monks: the way
we take our stomachs, instead of the Dhamma, to show off to the
world.

Living in the forest: How does it differ from living in
villages? It has to differ, which is why the Buddha taught us to
live there. And living in an ordinary forest vs. living in a
lonely forest: How does this feel to the person living there? For a
person aiming at the Dhamma, there's a big difference between living
in a forest and living in a lonely forest, including the effort
required to make the mind quiet. In a lonely forest, the mind
becomes still easily because we aren't complacent. We're watchful
over ourselves. Wherever we're mindful and alert, that's the effort
of practice. Defilement is afraid of people who are mindful and
alert, who are always watchful over themselves. It's not afraid
of complacent people. The Buddha thus opened the way, using the
ascetic practices, for us to take victory over defilement. This is
the way that will stamp out defilement. It's not the case that he
opened the way through the ascetic practices for defilement to stomp
all over the heart.

All the
ascetic practices, for those who follow them, are ways of subduing
defilement. For example, living under the shade of a tree, in
appropriate forests and mountains: The Buddha and his Noble
Disciples all came into being in purity from these things, so we as
meditators should reflect on this. We shouldn't forget ourselves.
However many material gains we may receive, we shouldn't forget
ourselves because of them, for that's not the way of those who
follow in the footsteps of the Buddha and his Noble Disciples.

No
matter how many people come to respect us, that's their business. We
in practicing the Dhamma should beware of that sort of thing,
because it's a concern and a distraction, an inconvenience in the
practice. We shouldn't get involved in anything but the contact
between the heart and the Dhamma at all times. That's what's
appropriate for us. If the mind becomes a world of rebirth, it'll
outstrip the worldliness of the world to the point where it has no
limits or bounds. The more people come to respect us -- and our
defilements as monks and human beings are always ready to welcome
this -- the more pride we feel, the more we forget ourselves. We
swell up more than a river overflowing its banks, because this is a
matter of defilement, not of the Dhamma. Matters of the Dhamma have
to be even. They require us to be mindful at all times and not to
forget ourselves. This is the path followed by those who have
practiced to lift themselves beyond suffering and stress. Those of
us who want to gain release like them have to practice like them --
or like students who have teachers. We shouldn't practice
haphazardly, claiming to be smart and not listening to anyone.
That's the path of practice taking us up on the chopping block with
the onions and garlic, not the path taking us to the paths,
fruitions, and nibbana.

These
are things I have felt ever since I was a young monk, and so I've
been able to hold to them as good lessons all along. There were
times when I saw people coming to show respect to my teachers, and
it gave rise to a strange sort of feeling in my heart -- the feeling
that I'd like to have them respect me in the same way -- but at the
same time I knew that the mind was base and was giving rise to an
obscene desire, so I didn't encourage it. I kept blocking it and was
always conscious of my own fault in feeling that way.

When I
really began to practice, I knew even more clearly that that was a
wrong notion, that to think in that way wasn't right at all. It was
like the toad trying to compare himself to the ox. My teacher's
status was that of a teacher. My status was that of a toad lurking
underground. How could I try to compare myself with him if I didn't
want to burst like the toad in Aesop's fable? That fable is a very
good lesson for those who practice properly for the sake of release.

The
practice of visiting the cemetery: Why visit the cemetery? We
people have to see evidence with our own eyes if we're going to come
to our senses. Visiting cemeteries is for the sake of seeing human
death. Cemeteries in the past weren't like they are today. Unburied
bodies were scattered all over the place -- old bodies and new,
scattered around like logs. When you saw them, you'd see clear
evidence with your own eyes.

The
Buddha gave instructions on how to visit a cemetery. Go from the
upwind side, he said, not from the downwind side. Don't begin by
looking at new corpse. Look at the old ones first. Keep
contemplating the theme of your meditation and gradually move on
until you know that the mind has enough mindfulness and discernment
to contemplate a new corpse. Only then should you move on to a new
corpse -- because a new corpse still has regular features. If the
person who just died had beautiful features, it might cause desire
to flare up, and you'd end up with an out-of-the-ordinary meditation
theme, which is why you have to be careful.

The
Buddha taught stage by stage, to visit the cemetery at intervals or
in steps, and to contemplate it at intervals in keeping with your
capabilities. He wouldn't have you go storming right in, for that
wouldn't be fitting. He taught all the steps. Don't be in a hurry to
contemplate a corpse that hasn't fallen apart or been bitten, a
corpse that is still new and hasn't swollen or grown foul. Don't be
in a hurry to approach such a corpse. And be especially careful with
a corpse of the opposite sex -- that's what he said -- until the
mind is capable enough in its contemplation. Then you can
contemplate anything.

Once
we've contemplated death outside until we gain clear evidence, we
then turn inward to contemplate the death in our own body until we
catch on to the principle within the mind. Then the external
cemetery gradually becomes unnecessary, because we've caught on to
the principle within ourselves and don't need to rely on anything
outside. We contemplate our body to see it as a cemetery just like
the external cemetery, both while it's alive and after it dies. We
can compare each aspect with the outside, and the mind gradually
runs out of problems of its own accord.

The
practice of not lying down: This is simply a way of training
ourselves to make a great effort. It doesn't mean that we take
not-lying-down as a constant practice. We may resolve, for example,
not to lie down tonight as our ascetic practice. This is a practice
to be observed on occasion -- or you might resolve not to lie down
for two or three nights running, depending on the resolution you
make.

The
practice of living in whatever dwelling is assigned to one: This
is another ascetic practice. They're all ways of getting monks to
subdue the defilement of forgetting oneself.

A monk
who observes the ascetic practices well, who is solid in his
observance of them, is one who is solid in his practice, truly
intent on the Dhamma, truly intent on subduing defilement. He's not
a person ordained to do nothing or who forgets himself. All thirteen
ascetic practices are tools for subduing the defilements of those
who follow them. There's nothing about them that anyone can
criticize -- except for Devadatta and his gang.

A monk
who doesn't observe any of these practices is an empty monk who
forgets himself, who has nothing but the outside status of a monk.
He wraps himself in a yellow robe, calls himself venerable -- and
becomes haughty as a result. Even more so when he's given
ecclesiastical rank: If the heart is taken with that sort of thing,
it'll have to get excited over its shadow, without any need for
backup music to get it going. The mind gets itself going through the
power of the clay on its head, thinking that it has a crest. Since
when has this defilement ever been willing to yield to anyone?

People
of this sort forget all the affairs of monks and become part of the
world -- going even further than the world. Rank is given for the
sake of encouraging good practice and conduct, but if the mind
becomes haughty, rank becomes a way of destroying oneself, killing
oneself with various assumptions. The King bestows ranks and names,
this and that, and we assume them to be a crest. Actually, they're
just a bit of clay stuck on our head, not a natural crest. If you
want a natural crest, then follow the practice well. What could be
finer than to be 'venerable' in line with the principles of nature?
The word 'venerable' means excellent, so why be enthralled with
dolls and clay?

To be
venerable doesn't mean that just our name is excellent. We have
to be excellent in our practice and conduct, in line with such
principles of the Dhamma and Vinaya as the ascetic practices. If
we're solid in the ascetic practices, we'll gradually become
excellent people in line with the principles of our practice and
ultimately in line with the principles of nature -- excellent not
just in name, but through the nature of a mind made spotless and
pure. A name can be established any old day. You can even build it
up to the sky if you want. They establish names just to flatter one
another as a matter of custom. This is an affair of the world. They
keep conferring titles on one another. Those who confer the titles
have good intentions, so we have to repay those good intentions by
setting our hearts on the practice in line with the principles of
the Dhamma and Vinaya, and on observing our duties as monks to the
full. This is in keeping with their purpose in conferring titles so
as to encourage monks to be good.

At any
rate, don't take the conferring of titles... Don't take the title
and use it to destroy yourself with pride and conceit. The highest
perfection in line with natural principles, with no need to confer
titles, is to practice well. Observe the precepts well. Don't
violate or overstep them. Make the mind still and calm with
meditation. Whichever theme you focus on, be earnest and mindful
with it. When you investigate, investigate right on down so as to
give rise to astuteness. Analyze the properties (dhatu), the
khandhas, and the sense media (ayatana) so as to see
them as they are in line with their reality, as I've already
explained many times.

What
are the properties? The four physical properties: earth, water,
wind, and fire. These are the primal properties, the things that
exist originally and get combined until a mind comes in and lays
claim to ownership, so that they're called a living being or an
individual, even though the various parts are just physical
properties in line with their natural principles. No matter who
confers titles on them as being a living being or an individual or
whatever, they don't turn into that. They remain physical properties
as they originally were. We should come to know this with our own
discernment through investigating.

The
sense media or connections: There are internal sense media and
external ones. The internal ones are the eyes, ears, nose, tongue,
body, and mind. The external ones are sights, sounds, smells,
tastes, tactile sensations, and ideas that make contact with the
internal sense media, giving rise to cognition and then to all sorts
of assumptions, most of which go off in the wrong directions. We
should analyze these things so as to see them well. This is called
vipassana, which means seeing clearly -- knowing clearly and
seeing truly, not knowing in counterfeit or illusory ways.

So we
should perform our duties correctly and to the full. Our heart is
always hoping to depend on us, because it can't get by on its own.
It's been oppressed and coerced by greed, anger, and delusion all
along, which is why it's always calling for our help. So what can we
use to help this heart that is always oppressed and coerced so as to
release it from danger, if we don't use our practice of
concentration, discernment, conviction, and persistence as a means
of advancing and uprooting so as to help it escape from the danger
of the things that coerce it.

At
present we've come to strip off the danger in the heart. We must try
every way we can to remove it. The main principle in the practice
is to have the solidity -- the heart -- of a warrior, ready to
die in the battle of washing the world out of the heart. If we don't
gain victory, we're prepared to die, offering our life in homage to
the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha. Don't retreat in defeat, or you'll
lose face, and the defilements will taunt you for a long time to
come. You won't be able to stand your feelings of inadequacy and
embarrassment in the face of the cycle of defilement. Whichever
world you go to, there will be nothing but defilements trailing you
and taunting you: 'What are you looking for, being born and bearing
this mass of suffering, you good-for-nothing person, you? Whenever
we fight, you lose miserably every time. You've never had the word
"victory" at all.' Listen to that, fighters for the sake of
completing the holy life! Do the taunts of the defilements sting? I
myself would be stung to the quick. Even if I died, I wouldn't
forget. So how do we feel? Are we spurred on to fight with them by
giving our lives?

Our
Buddha was a noble warrior to the last inch. His every movement was
bravery in the fight with defilement, without retreat, to the point
where the defilements were annihilated and he became the Teacher of
the world to whom we pay homage up to the present. The footprints of
his practice are still fresh in every word, every phrase of the
well-taught Dhamma, which hasn't been corrupted or effaced. So hold
to him as a principle in the heart, a principle in the practice,
until you have no breath left to breathe. Don't let him go.

The
land of victory, when all the defilements fall back in defeat: You
don't have to ask about it. You'll know it on your own through the
Dhamma immediately apparent to every person who practices to that
point. The Buddha didn't lay any exclusive claims on it, but
bestowed it as the wealth of every person who practices in dignity
in the midst of this world of inconstancy, stress, and not-self.
When the khandhas no longer carry on, we will attain full
anupadisesa-nibbana with nothing more to worry about.

The
Dhamma is something secure and complete. On the side of its causes,
it's a Dhamma right for remedying and removing defilement of every
sort. There's no defilement that lies above this Dhamma at all. The
Buddha taught it rightly in every way, in every facet, for remedying
defilement of every sort. Nothing excels this Dhamma -- in
particular, the Dhamma of the middle way, which is summarized as
virtue, concentration, and discernment. This is the Dhamma of
causes, the methods with which we should train ourselves and which
the Buddha taught us in full. As for the Dhamma of results, it comes
in stages. The mind is solid and doesn't stray or lean in line with
its preoccupations. It has stillness and calm: This is the mind
centered in concentration. The mind is courageous and capable,
astute and aware all-around in terms of the things that become
involved with it both within and without: This is the mind with
discernment. And when it's even more astute and refined than that,
to the point of being astute all-around and attaining release, then
the entire mind is Dhamma. In other words, the mind is the Dhamma,
the Dhamma is the mind -- oneness -- without any adversaries paired
with it as before.

My own
impression -- and whether I'm right or wrong, please decide for
yourselves -- but I'm certain that the Dhamma of the doctrine (sasana-dhamma),
the teaching of the Buddha, refers for the most part to causes. The
Buddha explained the causes, the practices to follow so as to remedy
and remove defilement or to develop the various forms of goodness.
The results are happiness. The teachings are simply directions
showing the way.

As for
the genuine Dhamma appearing from the practice, whether or not we
give it names, it's a Dhamma in the principles of nature. It's
Dhamma that we can't easily reach to touch. This is the Dhamma
that's said to exist with the world at all times. As for the Dhamma
of the doctrine taught by the Buddhas, this can disappear from time
to time, as has happened with each of the long line of Buddhas who
have gained Awakening. This in itself shows the inconstancy of the
Dhamma of the doctrine for us to see clearly -- unlike the Dhamma in
the principles of nature, which has existed from the very beginning
and has no involvement with inconstancy, stress, or not-self in any
way that would give rise to that Dhamma or make it end.

The
tactics given by each of the Buddhas to the world are called the
Dhamma of the doctrine. These aren't the genuine Dhamma.
They're tactics -- different off-shoots -- actions and modes
displayed by the genuine Dhamma, means for letting go and striving,
teaching us to let go, teaching us to strive using various methods,
saying that the results will be like this or that.

As for
the genuine Dhamma of results in the principles of nature, that's
something to be known exclusively in the heart of the person who
practices. This Dhamma can't really be described correctly in line
with its truth. We can only talk around it. And particularly with
release: This can't be correctly described at all, because it's
beyond all conventions and speculations. It can't be described. Even
though we may know it with our full heart, we can't describe it.
Like describing the flavor and fullness that come from eating: Even
though eating is something in the realm of conventional reality that
can be described, and though we all have savored the flavor and
eaten our fill, still we can't describe these things at all in line
with their truth.

The
Dhamma that can't be described: That's the genuine Dhamma. It
doesn't have the word 'vanishes' or 'disappears' -- simply that the
world can't reach in to know it and touch it. As for annihilating
this Dhamma, it can't be annihilated. When we practice in line with
the tactics given by each of the Buddhas, we can touch it and become
aware of it. The heart becomes an awareness of the Dhamma, a right
and fitting vessel for the Dhamma -- and there is no vessel more
appropriate for receiving each level of the Dhamma than the heart.
When it enters into the Dhamma in full measure, the heart becomes
one with the Dhamma. The heart is the Dhamma. The Dhamma is the
heart. Oneness. There is nothing but oneness, not becoming two with
anything else.

This
Dhamma of oneness: Our ability to reach and to know it depends on
our individual practice. It doesn't depend on the time or place or
on anyone else. The important point is simply that our practice be
right and appropriate. It will foster the mind in making contact
with the Dhamma step by step to the highest step. So we should be
intent and make determination the basis for our practice.

Don't
forget the phrase, Buddham saranam gacchami -- I go to the
Buddha for refuge -- as I have already explained it to you.
Dhammam saranam gacchami -- I go to the Dhamma for refuge. This
I have also explained. Sangham saranam gacchami -- I go to
the Sangha for refuge. Don't forget the ways in which the Noble
Disciples practiced. Virtually all of them went through hardships to
the brink of death before becoming our Sangham saranam gacchami.
It's not the case that they were spoonfed, while we practice with
hardship and difficulties to the brink of death. That's not the case
at all. They went through difficulties just like ours -- or far
greater than ours -- before becoming our Sangham saranam gacchami.
They came from all levels of society, some from royal families and
noble families leading a very delicate life. They had the ranks of
kings, courtiers, and financiers, all the way down to ordinary
farmers and slaves.

Coming
from different classes of society -- and some of them having lived
in comfort in their homes -- when they went forth to practice, they
had to train and fit their thoughts, words, and deeds into a single
mould, the mould of the sons of the Sakyan. So why wouldn't they
have had trouble? Why wouldn't they have had difficulties? The way
they ate in their homes was one thing; when they went forth to
become monks, they had to ask others for alms. Instead of getting to
eat this, they got that. Instead of getting hot food, they got cold
food. Instead of getting to eat a lot, they got just a little, not
in keeping with their wants. So how wasn't this difficult? It had to
be difficult. But after they had finished eating, the important
thing was training the mind to subdue defilement. Defilement has
been the adversary, the foremost opponent of the Dhamma within the
heart all along. There is no adversary stronger, smarter, or
trickier than the defilements that have held power over the hearts
of living beings for so long.

For
this reason, we have to produce enough mindfulness, discernment,
conviction, and persistence to subdue defilement. Otherwise we'll be
deficient in the fight. To be deficient in the fight is no good at
all. It's sure to make us deficient in the results we'll obtain. So
the production of mindfulness, discernment, conviction, and
persistence to be appropriate for subduing defilement of every sort,
step by step, is the path of victory for the meditator who is to
gain complete results, who will one day be free and independent for
sure.

Virtually all of the Noble Disciples practiced in this way until
reaching release. They gained release from suffering through
struggle before becoming our saranam gacchami. So don't
forget. Our refuges -- Sangha saranam gacchami -- weren't
spoonfed people. They were people who struggled to the brink of
death just like us. Think of them and hold to them as examples.
Don't take the diddly-shit affairs of the world, which have no value
or standards, as the principles in your heart, or you'll become
irresolute and good for nothing, unable to find any goodness, any
release from stress, any happiness or prosperity, any standards at
all to your dying day. When this is the case, fullness and
satisfaction in your work and in the results of your work won't
exist in your heart. So be intent on practicing.

The
Dhamma of the Buddha is always shining new. Don't forget that it's
always shining new. Majjhima patipada -- the middle way -- is
a shining-new Dhamma, not tarnished, shabby, or worn out like
objects we've used for a long time. Majjhima means right in
the middle -- the Dhamma that has been appropriate for curing
defilements of every sort all along. Ultimately it becomes
majjhima in the principles of nature, because it has cured
defilement and brought release within the mind. The mind becomes a
majjhima mind, always even within itself.

So
don't take anyone as your model more than the Buddha, Dhamma, and
Sangha. By and large, the mind tends to take lowly things as its
model, which is why we have to say, 'Don't take anyone as your model
other than the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha.' The meditation masters
who have practiced rightly, appropriately, and well as a good
example for us who aim at studying with them: They too derived their
model from the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha.

If we
get weak or discouraged, we should reflect on the cemeteries of
birth and death that will burn us forever: Is there anything good
about them? The struggle involved in the effort of the practice,
even though it involves hardship, is a means of cutting back on our
becoming and birth. More than that, it completely eliminates
becoming and birth, which are a massive heap of stress, from the
heart, so that we can freely pass by and gain release. There are
none of the various sorts of defilement -- even the most subtle --
infiltrating or coercing such a heart. This is what it means to be
free in every way, above the world of rebirth -- which is a
conventional reality -- through the power of our persistent
endeavor. For this reason, we should take persistence, endeavor, and
effort as our basis for victory, or as our basis for the practice.
We are then sure one day of attaining release from suffering and
stress. No one has the power to coerce us or decide our score. We
are the ones who'll decide our score for ourselves.

The way
of practice that follows the aims of the Buddha and the true Dhamma
is to be truly intent on acting rightly. Every sort of duty that is
ours to do should be done intently. When doing a task of any sort,
even a small one, if we lack intentness, it won't get finished in a
presentable way at all, because intentness -- which is a matter of
mindfulness and principles in the heart that can bring a task to
completion -- is lacking in ourselves and in our work. To have
mindfulness and principles of the heart in ourselves and in our work
is, in and of itself, to be making the effort of the practice,
regardless of whether the work is internal or external. If a person
lacks intentness as a means of keeping his work in focus, then even
if he is a craftsman capable of making things solid and beautiful,
his lack of intentness will reduce the quality and beauty of his
work. For this reason, intentness and concentration are
important factors that shouldn't be overlooked by those who aim at
full results in their work.

We have
gone forth from the household life. We're meditators. We should
display intentness in our every duty and be deliberate in our every
task. Even when we sweep the monastery compound, clean our quarters
and the meeting hall, set out sitting mats and drinking water, in
all our movements, comings and going, even when looking right and
glancing left, we should be mindful at every moment. This is
what it means to be making the effort of the practice. In developing
the habit of mindfulness, we have to use our work as our training
ground. Every external task of every sort is a duty. Walking
meditation and sitting meditation are duties. If we're mindful in
doing our duties, it means that our effort in the practice hasn't
lapsed. To train ourselves in the habits of those who are intent on
the higher levels of Dhamma, we must begin -- with urgency -- by
training ourselves to be mindful in every task of every sort from
the very beginning. For the sake of the certainty and stability of
your future, develop mindfulness as a habit from this moment onward
until you have it constantly present within you, every moment you
act and every moment you rest.

When
the time comes to make the mind still, mindfulness will come to
stick close by the heart and be established as soon as you make the
effort, just as you want it to. At the same time, your mindfulness
will have enough strength to force the mind into stillness at will.
For the most part, when people are unable to make their minds still
as they like, it's because mindfulness, which is the primary factor,
isn't strong enough, and so the mind easily finds the opening to
slip out after other preoccupations -- like an inquisitive child who
has no one to watch over him and who can thus get into danger any
time at all. The mind that's always carried away, without any
mindfulness to look after it, is thus always getting disturbed to
the point where it can never find any stillness and peace. The
guardians of the mind are mindfulness and discernment, which
continually watch over it all the time it is thinking about various
issues, and which continually try to reason with the mind to free it
from the issues that come to involve it. When the mind is constantly
hearing the logic of its discernment, it will be unable to disobey
its discernment by thinking about and becoming attached to any
issues any longer.

To
train mindfulness and discernment to become progressively stronger
and not to deteriorate, please train them in the method already
mentioned. Don't let yourself be careless in any useful activity of
any sort, no matter how small. Otherwise the carelessness that's
already the lord of the heart will become a chronic disease taking
deep root in the heart, ruining every aspect of your practice. Try
to train yourself in the habit of being dependable and intent in
your proper activities, within and without, at all times. Don't let
carelessness or negligence incubate in your character at all,
because people who have trained themselves in the habit of being
true to their every duty are sure to be able to succeed in every
sort of activity, whether inner or outer, without any obstacle to
thwart them. Even when they train their hearts, which is the
important job within, they are sure to succeed with circumspection
in such a way that they will find nothing with which they can fault
themselves -- because outer activities and inner activities both
point to the same heart in charge of them. If the heart is
habitually careless, then when it takes charge of any inner task,
it's bound to ruin the task, without leaving even a scrap for itself
to take as its refuge.

So for
a bright future in the tasks that form your livelihood and source of
happiness, you should train yourself in the habit of being
dependable and true in your duties. Perform each task to the utmost
of your ability. Then when you turn inward to perform your inner
work for the sake of stillness or for the sake of discernment and
discovery, you will be able to perform both sorts of work with
precision and circumspection because of the habits you have
developed in training yourself to be true and circumspect all along.
To follow the practice from the beginning to the highest level
depends mainly on your basic habits. The 'beginning' of the practice
and the 'end' both refer to the one heart whose condition of
awareness will develop when it's modified by the Dhamma, both in
terms of causes -- the striving of the practice -- and in terms of
the results, or happiness, just as a child gradually develops from
infancy to adulthood when nourished by food and all sorts of other
factors. The beginning of the practice thus refers to the training
of the mind in the beginning stages so as to change its habits and
sensibilities, making them reasonable and right, until it is
knowledgeable and can maintain itself without any deviations from
the reasonability and rightness appropriate to it. But when we come
right down to it, the beginning and end of the practice are like a
piece of fruit: We can't say exactly where it begins and where it
ends. When we look at it, it's simply a piece of fruit.

The
same sort of thing holds true with the mind. We talk about the
beginning or the end of the practice in the sense that the mind has
its various preoccupations, coarse and refined, mixed in with it. In
modifying them, we have to keep coming up with new techniques,
changing those preoccupations from their original state to more and
more refined levels that should be called, where suitable, the
beginning or the end of the path. Those of you listening should make
yourselves reach this sort of understanding of the defilements and
evil qualities in the heart that are given such a variety of names
that they can go beyond the bounds of what the suppositions of a
single mind can keep track of and resolve. Otherwise you won't have
any techniques for curing yourselves of the condition just
mentioned.

Let me
stress once more the principle that guarantees sure results:
Train yourself in the habit of being solid and true in your work and
duties at all times. Don't be unsteady, uncertain, or
undependable. If you say you'll go, go. If you say you'll stay,
stay. If you say you'll do something, do it. Once you've settled on
a time or a task, keep to it. Be the sort of person who writes with
his hand and erases with his hand. Don't be the sort who writes with
his hand and erases with his foot. In other words, once we've made a
vow, no one else can come in and destroy that vow, and yet we
ourselves are the ones who destroy it: This is what is meant by
writing with the hand and erasing with the foot, which is something
very unseemly. We have to be true to our plans and always decisive.
Once we've determined that a particular task is worthwhile and
right, we should give our life to that task and to our
determination. This way we'll become dependable and self-reliant.
The virtues we are maintaining will become dependable virtues and
won't turn into virtues floating in the wind. Our practice of
concentration will become dependable concentration on every level
and won't turn into concentration floating in the wind, i.e.,
concentration only in name but without the actuality of
concentration in the heart. And when we develop each level of
discernment, it will be dependable discernment, in keeping with the
truthfulness of our character, and won't turn into discernment
floating in the wind, i.e., discernment only in name but without any
ingenuity in freeing ourselves. What I've said so far is so that you
will see the drawbacks of being undependable and desultory, without
any inner truthfulness, and so that if you hope for genuine progress
in terms of the world and the Dhamma, you'll look for a way to give
these things a wide berth.

Now I'd
like to say more about mindfulness and discernment, the factors that
can make your character more stable and circumspect. You should
always be aware that discernment isn't something that you can cook
up like food. It comes from considering things carefully. A person
without discernment is unable to complete his tasks with any sort of
finesse and unable to protect his valuables -- in the sense of the
world or of the Dhamma -- from danger. For this reason, the
important factors in maintaining and practicing the teachings of the
religion are mindfulness and discernment. Whenever an event, whether
good or bad, makes contact with the mind, mindfulness and
discernment should take it up immediately. This way you can be
alert to good and bad events in time and can prevent the heart from
straying after things that will harm it.

For the
most part, whenever an issue arises, whether it's sudden or not, the
heart can be swayed or harmed in line with that issue because it
lacks the mindfulness and discernment to observe and inspect things
carefully beforehand. It then sees everything as worth pursuing, and
so you let the mind follow along with things without your being
aware of it. By the time you realize what has happened, time has
been wasted, and it's too late to put a stop to the mind, so you let
things follow their own course until they all turn to ashes, without
any way of being remedied. Don't think that this comes from
anything other than a lack of the mindfulness and discernment that
can lead out to freedom. If not for this, who would be willing
to sacrifice his or her own worth -- with a value above that of
anything else in the world -- for the sake of this sort of failure?
Yet it's unavoidable and we have to give in -- all of us -- for when
the chips are down, it's normal that mindfulness will lapse, and we
won't be able to latch onto anything in time. We'll then let things
follow their own course in line with the force of events too strong
for the mind to withstand.

Thus it
is only right that we should prepare ourselves from this moment
onward to be ready for the events that lie in wait around us, within
and without, and are ready to strike at any time or place. Even
though it's still morning (even though you're still alive), don't
let yourself delay. To be prepared is to strive to have a firm
basis, both within and without, for your living and dying. Whether
you live here or there, whether death will happen here or there,
whether you live in this world or the next, or whether you're coming
to this world or going to the next, you should prepare yourself,
beginning now, in the immediate present. Otherwise, when life is up,
you won't be able to prepare anything in time. I've never seen any
Teacher's Dhamma that says to prepare yourself tomorrow or next
month or next year or in the next life, which would simply encourage
people to be complacent. I've seen the Dhamma say only that you
should make yourself a refuge both within and without right now
while you're alive. Even though days, nights, months, and years,
this world and the next, are always present in the cosmos, they're
not for worthless people who are born and die in vain without doing
anything of any benefit to the world or the Dhamma at all.

In
particular, now that we are monks and meditators -- which is a
peaceful way of life, a way of life that the world trusts and
respects, a way of life that more than any other in the world gives
us the opportunity to do good for ourselves and others -- we should
be fully prepared in our affairs as monks and shouldn't let
ourselves be lacking. For our behavior as monks to be gracious in a
way pleasing and inspiring to others, we must use mindfulness and
discernment as our guardians, looking after our every movement. A
person with mindfulness and discernment looking after his behavior
is gracious within and without, and maintains that graciousness in a
way that never loses its appeal at any time. When we use mindfulness
and discernment to straighten out things within us -- namely, the
mind and its mess of preoccupations -- the mind immediately becomes
clean, clear, and a thing of value.

Remember the Dhamma you have studied and heard, and bring it inward
to blend with your practice and to support it. Keep your mindfulness
and discernment right with the heart and with your every movement.
Wherever the eye looks or the ear listens, mindfulness and
discernment should follow them there. Whatever the tongue, nose,
and body come into contact with -- no matter how good or bad, coarse
or refined -- mindfulness and discernment should keep track of those
things and pry intelligently into their causes every time there's a
contact. Even when ideas occur in the mind itself, mindfulness and
discernment must keep track and investigate them without break --
because those who have gained release from the world of
entanglements in the heart have all acted in this way. They have
never acted like logs thrown away on the ground where children can
climb up to urinate and defecate on them day and night. If anyone
acts like a log, defilements and cravings from the various
directions -- namely, from sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and
tactile sensations -- will come in through the openings of the eyes,
ears, nose, tongue, and body to urinate and defecate on the heart
that is making itself into a log because it doesn't have any
intelligence or circumspection with regard to its inner and outer
preoccupations. It simply lets cravings and defilements urinate and
defecate on it day and night. This isn't at all fitting for those
who aim at freedom from the cycle -- i.e., who aim at nibbana
-- because the nibbana of the Buddha and his disciples is not
a lazy nibbana or a log's nibbana. Those who want the
Buddha's nibbana in their hearts must try to conform to the
tracks left by the practice of the Buddha and his disciples. In
other words, they must make an effort to develop mindfulness,
discernment, conviction, and persistence to keep abreast of the
events occurring within and without at all times. Don't act like a
log, simply going through the motions of walking, sitting,
meditating, sitting like a stump in the middle of a field without
any sense of circumspection in the heart. This sort of going through
the motions isn't any different from the way people in general
normally act.

To be a
disciple of the Tathagata, whose fame has spread throughout the
three levels of the cosmos, you should try to revive the mindfulness
and discernment lying dormant in the heart so that they can support
your efforts in extracting all the various defilements and cravings
coming from the heart that at the moment is like a log. Greed,
anger, delusion, laziness, discontent, jealousy, possessiveness: All
of these things are excrement piled on the heart. Once mindfulness
and discernment have been trained as we have mentioned, they will
become stronger day by day, more and more accustomed to working, in
the same way that we get accustomed to other forms of work. When we
bring them to bear on the effort of the practice within the heart,
they will be able to understand the affairs of the heart in due
time, without taking long.

In
order to be principled and methodical in your training, keep your
awareness constantly with the body. Keep mindfulness focused
there and use discernment to investigate within the sphere of the
body. To do this is to follow the principles of the frames of
reference (satipatthana) and the Noble Truths (ariya-sacca),
which form the path of all the Noble Ones.

There
are four frames of reference: the body, feelings, the mind, and
phenomena. 'The body' refers to every part of the body. This is
termed kayanupassana satipatthana. 'Feelings' refers to
pleasure, pain, and indifference. This is termed vedananupassana
satipatthana. 'The mind' refers to the mental states that are
fashioned by the mind and color it. This is termed cittanupassana
satipatthana. 'Phenomena' refers to anything, material or
mental, that is the object or focal point of the mind's
investigation. This is termed dhammanupassana satipatthana.

In
investigating the four frames of reference, be sure to come to a
right understanding from the outset that body, feelings, mind, and
phenomena as frames of reference are a class separate from the
mind that possesses them as frames of reference. Otherwise
you'll get discouraged or upset when they exhibit change as part of
their normal nature or as a result of the investigation, which is
something that may happen in the course of the practice. In other
words, these four factors normally undergo change that can give rise
to pleasure or displeasure. When we are investigating them, they
continue to undergo change, which can make the meditator pleased or
displeased or sometimes even discouraged and fed up with the
investigation. I mention this so that you'll be forewarned when it
happens and will make yourself understand with circumspection that
the mind in charge of the frames of reference hasn't changed along
with its frame of reference in any way. Once you have come to a
right understanding, you can become confident in your investigation
of the frames of reference. No matter which frame of reference --
body, feelings, mind, or phenomena -- exhibits change or disappears,
the heart -- a phenomenon that doesn't change or die -- will be able
to investigate to the full extent of its strength and come to a
clear comprehension of these four factors step by step without being
affected by the pleasures and pains in the body and mind, which are
the conditions exhibited by the frames of reference.

In
investigating the body, you can deal either with the internal body
or with external bodies, depending on the situation and what comes
easiest to the heart. 'The internal body' refers to every part of
your own body. 'External bodies' refers to the bodies of other
people and animals. 'The body within the body' refers to any one
part of the body. All of these things will show themselves to be
disgusting and dismaying to the person who uses discernment to
investigate them and know them as they actually are. Inside
and out, both the internal body and external bodies, all share in
the same characteristics. They always have to be washed and cleaned
-- and thus the care of the body is a constant duty for everyone in
the world. The things that are used to care for the body, to keep it
alive and presentable, are thus the best-selling merchandise all
over the world. The investigation of the body so as to see clearly
with discernment into its origins, needs, and behavior, is thus a
means of cutting off a well-spring of worries and stress in the
heart -- because even a huge mountain of solid rock reaching to the
clouds would never weigh on the heart causing it any stress, but the
khandhas -- such as the physical khandha, or body --
oppress and weigh on the heart at all times to the point where we
can find no chance to put them down. The affairs of stress that are
related to the khandhas thus converge on the heart
responsible for them. For this reason, the mind in charge of the
khandhas should gain an all-around understanding of the
khandhas, both in their good and their bad aspects, so as to
manage them smoothly and comfortably, and not always be abused by
them.

Normally, the khandhas take advantage of us all day long.
Every move we make is for their sake. If the mind can find a way
out by becoming wise to its khandhas -- even while it is
still responsible for them -- it can then be in a position to
contend with them and won't have to take on all their stresses and
pains. At the same time, the stresses and pains in the khandhas
won't set up shop to sell us all their suffering. Thus those who
investigate the khandhas so as to see their benefits and
drawbacks with discernment aren't destined to take on pain and
nothing but pain from the khandhas. They are sure to find a
way to reduce and relieve the tensions and strains in their hearts.

In
investigating the body, you have to investigate it repeatedly, time
and again -- as required for your understanding, and not as
determined by your laziness -- until you really see clearly that
the body is nothing but a body, and is in no way a being, a
person, one's self, or another. This is called the contemplation of
the body as a frame of reference.

As for
feelings, the mind, and phenomena, you should realize that they are
all present in this same body, but their characteristics are
somewhat different, which is why they are given different names.
Make sure that you understand this point well. Otherwise the four
frames of reference and the four Noble Truths will turn into a cause
of stress -- a source of worries and doubts -- while you are
practicing, because of your confusion about where these phenomena
begin and end.

As for
feelings, there are three: pleasure, pain, and indifference --
neither pleasure nor pain. Feelings coming from the body and those
coming from the mind have these same three sorts. To investigate
them, you should ferret them out and examine them in line with their
characteristics, but don't take the body to be a feeling. Let
the body be the body. Let the feeling be a feeling -- in the same
way as seeing a tiger as a tiger, and an elephant as an elephant.
Don't take the tiger to be an elephant, or else your evidence won't
be in line with the truth, and the issue will spread until it can
never be resolved. In other words, ferret out and investigate the
feeling displaying itself in the present moment so as to see how it
arises, how it takes a stance, and how it disbands. The bases for
the arising of all three kinds of feeling are the body and mind, but
the feelings themselves aren't the body, nor are they the mind. They
keep on being feelings both in their arising and in their
disbanding. Don't understand them as being anything else or
you'll be understanding them wrongly. The cause of stress will
arise in that moment, and you won't be able to find any way to
remedy or escape from it. Your investigation, instead of leading to
the discernment that will release you from stress and its cause,
will turn into a factory producing stress and its cause at that
moment without your realizing it.

The way
feelings behave is to arise, take a stance, and disband. That's all
there is to them every time. And there's no 'being,' 'person,' 'our
self,' or another to them at all. As soon as we invest them with the
ideas of 'being' or 'person,' they will appear in terms of beings
and persons, which are the powers giving rise to the cause of stress
in that moment, and we'll immediately be intensifying stress.
Meditators should thus use their discernment to be circumspect in
dealing with feelings. If you don't take feelings to be yourself
while you are investigating them, all three sorts of feelings will
appear clearly as they truly are in line with the principles of the
frames of reference and the Noble Truths. No matter how these
feelings may change for good or bad, it will be a means of fostering
the discernment of the person investigating them each moment they
exhibit movement and change. The notions of 'being,' 'person,' 'our
self,' or 'another' won't have an opening by which to slip into
these three sorts of feelings at all. There will be just what
appears there: feelings as nothing but feelings. No sense of
sorrow, discontent, discouragement, infatuation, or pride will be
able to arise in any way while these three sorts of feelings are
displaying their behavior, because we have come to a proper
understanding of them -- and all the time that we as meditators have
a proper understanding of feelings while they are arising, we are
said to have the contemplation of feelings as a frame of reference
in the heart.

The
mind as a frame of reference is not a level of mind different or
apart from the other three frames of reference, which is why it is
termed a frame of reference just like the body, feelings, and
phenomena. If we were to make a comparison with timber, the mind
on this level is like an entire tree, complete with branches, bark,
softwood, roots, and rootlets, which is different from the
timber put to use to the point where it has become a house. To
contemplate the mind as a frame of reference is thus like taking a
tree and cutting it up into timber as you want. To investigate
the mind on this level, we should focus on the thought-formations of
the mind as the target or topic of our investigation, because these
are the important factors that will enable us to know the defilement
or radiance of the mind. If we don't know them, then even if the
mind suffers defilement and stress all day long, we won't have any
way of knowing. If we want to know the mind, we must first
understand the thought-formations that condition the mind in the
same way that seasonings give various flavors to food. The fact that
the mind displays such an infinite variety of forms, becoming so
changed from its original state as to bewilder itself, not knowing
the reason and how to cure it, giving in to events with no sense of
good or evil, right or wrong, is all because of the
thought-formations that condition it.

For
this reason, the mind as a frame of reference is a mind entangled
with its preoccupations and conditioned by its thought-formations.
The investigation of thought-formations is thus related to the mind,
because they are things interrelated by their very nature. If we
understand thought-formations, we will begin to understand the mind,
and if we understand the mind, we will understand more about
thought-formations -- starting with thought-formations from the
blatant to the intermediate and subtle levels, and the mind from the
blatant to the intermediate and subtle levels. These levels of
thought-formations and the mind come from the fact that the mind can
become involved with blatant, intermediate, or subtle
preoccupations. People contemplating the mind as a frame of
reference should thus make themselves understand from the very
outset that the mind and its conditions, or thought-formations,
are two different sorts of things. They aren't one and the same.
Otherwise the mind and its thought-formations will become entangled
and this will complicate the investigation as I have already
explained.

The
point to focus on is the arising and involvement of
thought-formations -- what preoccupations they touch on -- as well
as their disbanding together with the disbanding of their
preoccupations. Try to observe and keep track of the movements of
these thought-formations that come out from the mind to focus on
preoccupations of the past or future, both blatant and subtle.
Always be aware that thought-formations and preoccupations of every
sort that are interrelated must arise and disband together.
They can't be made to behave otherwise. Thus the notions of 'being,'
'person,' 'self,' or 'other' shouldn't be brought in to refer to the
mind, because they will immediately turn into a cause of stress. Try
to observe until you see this in the course of the investigation,
and you will see, as the Buddha taught, that the mind is simply a
mind and nothing else -- not a being, a person, self, other, or
whatever. When we contemplate the mind in this way, the heart will
not be upset or infatuated with the fashionings and conditions, the
pleasures and pains of the mind. This is what it means to have the
mind as a frame of reference.

'Phenomena' (dhamma) as a frame of reference covers anything
that serves as a focal point of the heart. On the refined level, it
refers to the heart itself. External phenomena are of many kinds.
Internal phenomena include every part of the body, all three kinds
of feelings, and the mind on the level of a frame of reference. All
of this is included in the contemplation of phenomena as a frame of
reference. The contemplation of the body, feelings, and mind
together -- all four frames of reference at once -- is, from the
standpoint of forest Dhamma, [2] the
contemplation of phenomena as a frame of reference. If this is
in any way wrong, due to my lack of skill in understanding and
explaining the matter, I ask forgiveness of all my listeners and
readers, because I always feel at a loss every time I mention the
topic of forest Dhamma in any of my talks or writings. For this
reason, I ask that my readers, when reading about forest Dhamma, try
to cultivate a fairly open mind toward every passage so that they
won't get upset while they are reading.

When,
in the course of the investigation, the four frames of reference are
brought together in the contemplation of phenomena so that they
become a single level of Dhamma, this is a point in the practice
more amazing and unexpected than anything that has gone before. This
is because in the beginning steps of the investigation the body is
like a piece of wood in the raw state. Feelings are in a raw state.
The mind is in a raw state. Even phenomena are in a raw state,
because the investigation itself is like a piece of wood in the raw
state, so that the things investigated are all in the same
state. But when we plane and polish things with the effort of the
practice, everything in the area of the practice gradually changes
its condition.

What I
have mentioned here concerning the contemplation of phenomena as a
frame of reference is a fairly refined level of Dhamma, so we can't
help but be grateful for the groundwork laid during the raw state of
the investigation on the beginning levels. When we investigate
phenomena in the final stages, if feels very different from the
beginning stages, even though they are the same four frames of
reference. When we reach the final stages, it appears to the mind
that all four frames of reference -- body, feelings, mind, and
phenomena -- connect so that they all come under contemplation of
phenomena as a frame of reference. They converge completely so that
there is no sense that this is the body, that's a feeling, this is
the mind, that's a phenomenon. They all seem to come together on a
single level of Dhamma.

In
dealing with the body, feelings, and mind, I've given a fairly
adequate explanation of the methods of investigation for remedying
and freeing the mind, but now that we come to the topic of
phenomena, the discussion seems to have dealt entirely with my own
experiences. Nevertheless, I hope that you will approach it with the
attitude I've just mentioned and put it into practice in a way
suited to your own temperament. The results are sure to come out
directly in line with what I've explained to you.

To
summarize the four frames of reference: There is the body, which
covers the internal body, external bodies, and the body within the
body. There are feelings -- internal feelings, external feelings,
and feelings within feelings. (The issue of feelings is fairly
complex, so I'd like to insert a few opinions here: Internal
feelings are feelings or moods in the mind. External feelings are
feelings in the body.) There is the mind -- the inner mind, the
outer mind, and the mind within the mind. 'The inner mind' refers to
mental states that deal with preoccupations exclusively within the
mind. 'The outer mind' refers to mental states involved with
external preoccupations. 'The mind within the mind' refers to any
single mental current out of the many mental currents that come out
of the heart. And then there are phenomena -- inner phenomena, outer
phenomena, and phenomena within phenomena. 'Inner phenomena' are the
refined states or preoccupations that are objects or focal points of
the mind, and also the mind itself, which is the converging point of
all mental objects. 'Outer phenomena' refers to every kind of
external condition capable of being an object of the mind.
'Phenomena within phenomena' refers to any single condition out of
the many conditions that are the focal points of the mind.

Thus
the terms 'body within the body', 'feelings within feelings', 'the
mind within the mind', and 'phenomena within phenomena' refer to any
single part or instance of these things. For example, any one hair
out of the many hairs on the head, any one tooth out of the many
teeth we have: These are termed the body within the body. A person
investigating any one part of the body in general is said to be
contemplating the body within the body. The same holds true for
feelings, mind, and phenomena, but I won't go into detail on this
point for fear that we won't have enough time. Let's save it for a
later date.

The
four frames of reference, from the point of view of forest
Dhamma, are present in full measure in our own bodies and minds.
This doesn't mean, though, that their external aspects are
irrelevant. This is a point you will see clearly when you work at
the frames of reference until you can connect them entirely on the
level of contemplation of phenomena. The mind won't feel compelled
to search for anything external to help in its practice. Simply
investigating exclusively in the area of the body and mind, using
the four frames of reference complete in the body and mind, will be
enough to cure it of its problems.

On the
beginning level, though, everything internal and external is
relevant. But as you reach the stage of letting go step by step,
those various conditions will lose their relevance. Even the body,
feelings, mind, and phenomena, which are the necessary terms of the
frames of reference, have to be let go. They shouldn't be
held to or borne as a burden on the heart. They must all be let go
when your investigation fully reaches the point of dhamma anatta:
Phenomena are not-self. Then later you can turn around to
contemplate and connect them again as a pastime for the mind in the
present, once the mind has gone beyond and yet is still in charge of
the khandhas.

Meditators, if they are firm and unflinching in the practice of the
frames of reference, are sure to see a variety of extraordinary and
amazing things arising at intervals in their minds. When the time
comes to reap the results on the level of Dhamma corresponding to
the causes that have been properly developed, the results will have
to appear stage by stage as the attainment of stream-entry,
once-returning, non-returning, and arahantship. There is no need to
doubt this.

So know
that whether we contemplate the four frames of reference or the four
Noble Truths, they are one and the same path for the sake of release
from suffering and stress. Even though there may be some
differences, they differ only in name. In terms of their basic
principles, they are one and the same. Those who work at the four
frames of reference and those who work at the four Noble Truths are
performing the same branch of work, because stress, its cause, its
disbanding, and the path to its disbanding are the same level of
truth as the body, feelings, mind, and phenomena -- in the same way
as when different people do different jobs in a single factory, the
profits from their labor all go to the same factory.

To
summarize the final results that come from working at the frames of
reference and the Noble Truths step by step: In the beginning the
body, feelings, mind, and phenomena are in a raw state. Stress, its
cause, its disbanding, and the path to its disbanding are in a raw
state, because the practice is in a raw state of planing and
polishing back and forth without any feel for the heaviness or
lightness, depth or shallowness, breadth or narrowness of the
Dhamma, and without any sense of right or wrong, good or bad in the
practice, because it's something we have never done before. No one,
from our great-grandparents down to our parents and other relatives,
has ever told us that the frames of reference and Noble Truths are
like this or that, that they should be put into practice this or
that way so as to give results of this or that sort -- for they
themselves had no way of knowing. What's worse, they have taken
these excellent frames of reference and Noble Truths and thrown them
away underground, underwater and into the fire time and again. We
are simply their children, grandchildren, and great-grand-children:
How can we boast that we're wise and all-knowing in these matters?
We simply have to admit our own ignorance. Even though it's true
that the frames of reference and Noble Truths have been excellent
Dhamma from the very beginning, when they reach us they have to
start as Dhamma in the raw state, because we ourselves are people in
the raw state. Even our practice is practice in the raw state. But
as we practice persistently, without retreating, and as our
understanding into the Dhamma and the practice gradually appears bit
by bit, day by day, and slowly begins to take shape, our conviction
in the teachings of the Buddha grows continually stronger and more
deeply rooted. The things that used to be mysterious gradually come
to be revealed for what they truly are.

For
example, the four frames of reference and four Noble Truths, even
though they were always right with us, used to be as if buried out
of sight, without our being aware of them. We listened to monks
giving sermons and imagined things to be far away, beyond the range
of our ears and eyes. We never thought at all to refer these
teachings inwardly to ourselves, the converging points of the
Dhamma. When the monks finished their sermons, the results could be
summarized as this: 'We don't have the capability of reaching the
Dhamma that has been taught, because it's infinitely deep and
exceedingly subtle. The Dhamma explained and we the listeners lie on
opposite sides of the world.' The thought never occurred to us that
all of us -- teachers and listeners alike -- are in the same world
of the frames of reference and the four Noble Truths, and that the
matters explained were entirely our own affairs without the
slightest deviation. These sorts of misunderstandings can happen to
all of us.

But
when the truth -- such as the frames of reference -- starts
revealing itself in the course of our practice, these teachings turn
step by step into a map for the mind. We see the body, feelings,
mind, and phenomena as if they were a piece of paper covered with
symbols and signs showing us the way to proceed so as to gain
release from suffering and stress. The frames of reference and Noble
Truths, within and without, become symbols and signs showing the way
for the mind to proceed on all sides, as if they were saying, 'Hurry
up and follow these arrows showing the way to safety. The enemy is
in a frenzy searching for you right nearby and is waiting in ambush
for you everywhere. Don't be lulled into thinking that any of
these places are safe. Only if you hurry through this jungle
will you reach safety.' Our persistence in the practice then grows
stronger, together with the mindfulness and discernment we have been
training by using the frames of reference and Noble Truths as our
whetstone and path. The body, feelings, mind, and phenomena that we
used to investigate erratically and unevenly now become Dhamma on a
common level and can all be investigated so as to be brought
together and subsumed under the level of contemplation of pure
phenomena.

When
the mind takes the contemplation of phenomena as its frame of
reference until it is skilled and thoroughly sure of itself, the
contemplation of phenomena (dhamma) turns to deal exclusively
with the affairs of the mind. At this stage you could say that the
Dhamma becomes the mind, or the mind becomes Dhamma. Once the mind
has entered purely into the contemplation of phenomena, then
external conditions -- sights, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile
sensations, and ideas, together with the senses of sight, hearing,
smell, taste, feeling, and ideation, which used to be like a solid
mountain of rock, obstructing the mind so that it could find no way
out -- fade away and vanish from the imagination. The body,
feelings, labels, thought-formations, and cognizance that were like
clouds obscuring the heart are now dispersed bit by bit from their
shapes -- the suppositions of conventional reality -- by the winds
of mindfulness, discernment, conviction, and persistence, until they
fade away to the point where almost nothing is left. What is
left is simply a vapor arising from the heart: This is a level of
phenomena that hasn't yet been destroyed but can't display itself
openly because strong mindfulness and discernment have it surrounded
and are constantly probing after it to destroy it at all times.
Finally this level of phenomena -- the mind of unawareness (avijja)
-- is utterly destroyed by mindfulness and discernment, using the
truth of dhamma anatta -- phenomena are not-self -- and the
teaching that all phenomena are unworthy of attachment. The notions
of being, person, self, or others, when they no longer have any
conventional suppositions in which to find shelter, must now float
away of their own accord.

The
moment that mindfulness and discernment have completed their duties
toward the frames of reference, a nature that is extraordinary and
amazing appears in all its fullness. All problems are resolved
without any chance of continuation, because cause and effect between
the khandhas and the mind have come to a full and lasting
truce. Even though they still live together, they no longer quarrel
the way they used to. Each is free in line with its truth. The word
yatha-bhuta-˝ana-dassana -- knowledge and vision of things as
they are -- in the understanding of forest Dhamma means living
with no mistrust between the khandhas and mind, the world and the
Dhamma, the inside and the out. The heart and all things
everywhere are no longer enemies as they used to be, and the heart
can now put all things to their proper uses.

I ask
that all of you as monks and meditators listen to this so that it
goes straight to the heart, and make an effort until your practice
goes straight to the heart as well. All of this dhamma will appear
as a treasure of infinite worth in the hearts of those who are
intent, and nothing will ever be able to separate them from it. The
effort made for an honorable victory like that of the Buddha -- a
victory unmatched by anything else in the world -- is the effort to
take victory over oneself, as the Pali says,

atta
have jitam seyyo: It is better to take victory over oneself.

This
seems to be enough explanation for the time being, so now, at the
end of this talk, I ask that the power of the Triple Gem safeguard
and protect each and every one of you so that you meet with ease in
body and mind, and so that you progress in virtue, concentration,
and discernment until you can overcome all obstacles to the realm of
security and peace that is nibbana.

Here in
this monastery we practice not in line with people's wishes and
opinions, but in line for the most part with the principles of the
Dhamma and Vinaya, the principles of the religion. We do this for
the sake of the public at large who rely on the religion as a
guiding principle in what is good and right, and who rely on the
good and right behavior of monks and novices, the religious leaders
for Buddhists at large. For this reason, I'm not interested in
treating anyone out of a sense of deference over and above the
principles of the Dhamma and Vinaya that are the basis of the
religion. If our minds start to bend under the influence of the
views and opinions of any one person or of the majority -- who have
no limits or standards -- then monasteries and the religion will
come to have no limits or standards. Monasteries that bend under the
influence of the world, without any sense of reason as an underlying
support, will have no order or standards, and will become
monasteries without any of the substance of the religion remaining
in them at all. Those who look for things of value to revere and
respect -- in other words, intelligent people -- won't be able to
find anything good of any substance that will have a hold on their
hearts, because there will be nothing but worthless and counterfeit
things filling the monasteries, filling the monks, the novices, the
nuns, filling everything everywhere. In homes as well as in
monasteries, in the area of the world as well as the Dhamma,
everything will get mixed into being one with what is counterfeit
and lacking in any value or worth.

For
this reason, we have to keep things in their separate places. The
religion and the world, even though they may dwell together, are not
the same thing. A monastery -- whether it's located in a village,
outside of a village, or in a forest -- is not the same as a
village. The people who come to stay there are not the same as
ordinary people. The monastery has to be a monastery. The monks have
to be monks with their own independent Dhamma and Vinaya that don't
come under or depend on any particular individual. This is an
important principle that can have a hold on the hearts of
intelligent people who are searching for principles of truth to
revere and respect or to be their inspiration. I view things from
this angle more than from any other. Even the Buddha, our Teacher,
viewed things from this angle as well, as we can see from the time
he was talking with Ven. Nagita.

When a
crowd of people shouting and making a big racket came to see the
Buddha, he said, 'Nagita, who is that coming our way, making a
commotion like fish-mongers squabbling over fish? We don't aspire to
this sort of thing, which is a destruction of the religion. The
religion is something to guard and preserve so that the world will
find peace and calm -- like clear, clean water well-guarded and
preserved so that people in general can use it to drink and bathe at
their convenience. The religion is like clear, clean water in this
way, which is why we don't want anyone to disturb it, to make it
muddy and turbid.' This is what the Buddha said to Ven. Nagita. He
then told Ven. Nagita to send the crowd back, telling them that
their manner and the time of day -- it was night -- were not
appropriate for visiting monks who live in quiet and solitude.
Polite manners are things that intelligent people choose to use, and
there are plenty of other times to come. This is a time when the
monks want quiet, so they shouldn't be disturbed in a way that
wastes their time and causes them difficulties without serving any
kind of purpose at all.

This is
an example set by our Teacher. He wasn't the sort of person to
mingle and associate with lay people at all times without any
reasonable limits or rules, the way things currently are -- as if
the religion were a distillery, and we monks and novices were
distributing liquor so that the public could be drunk without ever
sobering up for a day. Actually, the religion is medicine for curing
drunkenness. Monks and novices are supposed to be doctors for curing
their own drunkenness and that of the world. They're not supposed to
sell liquor and intoxicants to the point where they have no sense of
shame.

Whenever people set foot in the monastery, we say that they come in
good faith -- and so we make allowances and compromises until we
forget ourselves, forget the Dhamma and Vinaya, and forget the good
standards of monasteries and monks to the point where we destroy
ourselves, the monastery, and the religion bit by bit, day by day,
and everything turns into mud. Home-dwellers and monastery-dwellers
can't find any principles to hold to. Monks are full of excrement --
i.e., the worthless things in the monasteries and in the monks and
novices themselves.

For
this reason, each of us who has ordained in the religion should
reflect a great deal on these matters. Don't see anything as
having greater value than the Dhamma and Vinaya, which are the
major principles for uniting the hearts of Buddhists in confidence,
conviction, and peace. If the principles of the Dhamma and Vinaya
are lacking or deficient, the benefits received by Buddhists will
have to be deficient in turn, until there is nothing to which their
hearts can hold. Even though the teachings of the religion fill the
texts, and copies of the Canon fill every monastery, still the
important essence that should be put into practice so that people
can be inspired to take this essence into their hearts and put it
into practice themselves for the sake of what is beneficial and
auspicious, doesn't exist -- even though the religion still exists.
This is something we can clearly see at present.

The
important factors that can make the religion prosper and can
serve as witnesses to the people who become involved with it for the
sake of all things meritorious and auspicious are the monks and
novices. If the monks and novices are intent on behaving in line
with the principles of the Dhamma and Vinaya as taught by the
Buddha, they are the ones who will preserve the good pattern of the
religion and of the paths, fruitions, and nibbana without a
doubt. People will be able to take them as their standard -- because
there are still plenty of intelligent people left in the world. As
for stupid people, even though they may overflow the world, they
have no sure standards. If they feel pleased, they praise you. That
praise simply comes out of their stupidity and serves no purpose. If
they feel displeased, they criticize you. That criticism serves no
purpose, either for them or for you. If intelligent people praise
you, though, that can be taken to heart and benefits both parties,
them as well as you. If they praise the Sangha, they praise it in
line with the principles of the truth and of their intelligence. At
the same time, those members of the Sangha who hold to reason can
make themselves a field of merit for them as well, so that they too
can benefit. Even if they criticize us, they have their reasons that
should be taken as food for thought. Thus we who practice should
make ourselves well aware of this point.

Wherever you go, don't forget that you are a practitioner of the
religion, a representative of our Teacher in following the religion
and proclaiming it through your practice. This doesn't mean that you
have to teach the public to understand the Dhamma. Even the
practices you follow rightly are a visible example that can make
them feel conviction in the religion from what they see. Even more
so when you can explain the Dhamma correctly in line with the
principles of the practice following the teachings of the Buddha:
This is all the more the right and proper proclamation of the
religion for good people to hold to in their hearts. The religion
will come to flourish more and more in the hearts of Buddhists.

Wherever you go, wherever you stay, don't forget the basic
principles -- virtue, concentration, and discernment -- which are
the basic principles of our work as contemplative. These are the
essential principles of each monk's work. This is where we become
'sons of the Sakyan (sakya-putta), of the victorious Buddha,'
disciples of the Tathagata, and not when we simply shave our heads
and don the yellow robe. That's something anyone can do and isn't
important. What's important is behaving in line with our duties.

Virtue.
We should be careful to maintain our precepts so that they aren't
broken or stained. We should be careful, using mindfulness and
discernment in our every activity. Whatever else may get broken,
don't let your precepts get broken, for they are the invaluable
treasure of your status as a monk, something on which you can truly
stake your life.

Concentration. If it hasn't yet arisen, try to train the heart and
bring it under control, coming down hard on its unruliness caused by
the power of defilement, so that you can have it in hand in your
efforts with the practice. Use mindfulness and discernment to block
its recklessness so that it can settle down in peace and quiet. This
is our samadhi treasure as monks.

Discernment is intelligence and ingenuity. Discernment is of use in
all places at all times. Both in your internal and in your external
activities, always make use of your discernment. Especially in your
internal activities, when you're investigating the various kinds of
defilements and mental effluents, discernment becomes especially
important. Discernment and mindfulness shouldn't be separated. They
have to perform their duties together. Mindfulness is what keeps
watch over the work discernment is doing. Whenever mindfulness
lapses, that work won't accomplish its full aims. For this reason,
mindfulness is a necessary quality that must always be kept fastened
on your work.

These
things are our work as contemplatives. Remember them and always take
them to heart. Don't be apathetic, or you'll become a shameless
monk, callous to the fact that the world is bowing down to you at
all times.

Now
that the Rains Retreat is over, we'll each go our separate ways in
line with duty and necessity and the laws of inconstancy, stress,
and not-self. These are things we can't prevent, because they are
big matters, the way of nature. Even I myself: I'm not sure how much
longer I'll be able to stay with you all, because I lie under the
law of inconstancy, too. So while we are still living together, I
want you to be intent on training yourselves with your full hearts,
in keeping with the fact that you've come to study, to train
yourselves, and to practice.

The
word 'discernment,' which I mentioned a moment ago, means to
investigate and unravel the various factors that become involved
with us within and without. (And here I have to ask forgiveness of
the men and women interested in the Dhamma who fall under the
condition I'm about to discuss. Please reflect on it in all
fairness.) The body: Usually it's the body of the opposite sex. As
the Dhamma says, there is no sight that's a greater enemy to the
state of a contemplative than the sight of the opposite sex. The
same holds true for the voice, the smell, the taste, and the touch
of the opposite sex. These are the foremost dangers that face
contemplatives, so we have to show greater care and restraint toward
these things than toward anything else. Mindfulness and discernment
have to unravel these important points more than they have to deal
with any other work.

The
body. We should analyze it with our discernment so as to see it
clearly. The words 'the body of a woman' or 'the body of a man' are
simply names given in line with convention. Actually, it's not a
woman or a man. It's simply an ordinary body just like ours, covered
all over with skin. If we look inside, there's flesh, tendons, and
bones. It, like us, is all full of filthy and repulsive things.
There's no part that's basically any different from our own body.
There's simply the label in our mind that says 'woman' or 'man.'
This word 'woman' or 'man' is engraved deeply within the heart by
the heart's own suppositions, even though it's not a truth, and is
simply a supposition.

The
same with the voice: It's just an ordinary sound, and yet we label
it the voice of the opposite sex and so it stabs deep into the heart
-- especially for those of us who are ordained -- and goes clear
through, to the point where we forget ourselves. The heart gets cut
at the stem, even though we continue to live. The stem of the heart
is torn, rotten, and putrid, and yet we don't die. Instead, we
listen with pleasure to the song of our heart's being cut at the
stem, without ever wearying of it or having enough.

The
smell: It's an ordinary smell, just like ours, because it's the
smell of a person. Even if we bring perfumes and scents from the
realms of the devas and Brahmas to rub down that body, the smell is
the smell of those things, not the smell of a woman or man, not the
least little bit. So analyze this and make careful distinctions.

The
taste is simply the touch. The touch of that body is no different
from one part of our own body touching another part. Each of the
parts is just earth, water, wind, and fire, just like ours. We can't
see that there's any difference. So we have to investigate clearly
like this and then make comparisons, comparing the sight, sound,
smell, taste, and touch of the woman or man with our own sight,
sound, smell, taste, and touch. There's no difference in terms of
the principles of nature and of the truth, aside from the mind's
conferring titles in line with its thoughts.

For
this reason, we must use discernment to unravel things. Don't let
suppositions of any kind that will be your enemies infiltrate or
destroy your heart. Shake them off using discernment, which is a
truth, coming down to the truth that these things are just sights,
just sounds, just smells, just tastes, just tactile sensations, all
of which pass by and disappear like other things. This is without a
doubt the right way to contemplate that can gradually uproot our
attachments and misconceptions concerning these matters.

Whatever object you may investigate in the world, it's full of
inconstancy, stress, and lack-of-self. There's nothing lasting to be
found. All things depend on one thing or another, and then fall
apart. Whatever the object: If it exists in the world, it has to
fall apart. If it doesn't fall apart, we will. If it doesn't
break up, we'll break up. If it doesn't leave, we'll leave --
because this world is full of leaving and separation through the
principles of nature. So investigate in this way with discernment to
see clearly before these things leave us or we leave them, and then
let them go in line with their truth. When we can do this, the mind
will be at its ease. Here we've been talking about discernment on
the level of investigating sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and
tactile sensations. Whether within or without, on the blatant or the
subtle level, this is how all of these things are investigated.

Concentration I've already explained to some extent. Concentration
refers to the stability and solidity of the heart, beginning with
its small moments of stillness and peace, all the way up to the
refined and stable levels of stillness and peace. If the mind isn't
trained, isn't improved, isn't forced with various tactics backed up
by mindfulness, discernment, conviction, and persistence, it won't
be able to attain peace till its dying day. It will die in vain. It
will die restless and confused, straying off to 108 different
preoccupations. It won't have any mindfulness or self-awareness. It
will die without any principles or standards to hold to. It will die
just as a kite whose string is cut when it's up in the air floats
wherever the wind blows. Even while it's still living, it lives
without any principles or standards, because of its
absent-mindedness and heedlessness, its lack of any sense of reason
for it to follow. It lives simply drifting. If we live simply
drifting, without any good principles to hold to, then when we go,
we'll have to go simply drifting. What purpose will it serve?
What goodness and certainty can we have for our destination? So as
long as we're alive and aware as we currently are, we should build
certainty for ourselves in our hearts by being strong and
unflinching in matters that are of solid worth. Then we can be
certain of ourselves both as we live and when we die. We won't be
upset or affected by life or death, by being separated from other
beings or our own bodies -- something we all have to meet with,
because these are things lying within us all.

It's
not the case that discernment arises automatically on the heels of
concentration when the mind has been centered. It has to be
exercised and trained to think, explore, and investigate. Only then
will discernment arise, with concentration as its support.
Concentration on its own can't turn into discernment. It has to
remain as concentration. If we don't use discernment to investigate,
concentration simply makes the mind refreshed and calm, content with
its preoccupation in tranquillity, not hungering to think here or
there, not confused or straying -- because once the mind is still,
it's calm and refreshed with the Dhamma in line with the level of
its stillness. We then take the mind that has been refreshed by
tranquillity and use it with discernment to investigate and unravel
various things, none of which in this world lie over and beyond
inconstancy, stress, and not-self. All things are filled with these
same conditions, so use discernment to contemplate -- from whatever
angle most suits your temperament -- by investigating these things
with interest, with the desire really to know and see them as they
truly are. Don't simply investigate without any intention or
mindfulness in control.

In
particular, the theme of unattractiveness: This is a good, a very
good cure for the mind obsessed with lust and passion. However
strong the lust, that's how strongly you should investigate
unattractiveness until you can see your own body and that of others
throughout the world as a cemetery of fresh corpses. Lust won't have
a chance to flare up when discernment has penetrated to the
knowledge that the body is filled with repulsiveness. Who would feel
lust for repulsiveness? Who would feel lust for things with no
beauty? For things that are disgusting? This is one form of the
medicine of unattractiveness, one of the prime medicines for curing
the disease of lust and craving. Once you've made a really full
investigation, make the mind grow still in a restricted range. Once
the mind has investigated unattractiveness many, many times, to the
point where it becomes proficient, adept at contemplating external
bodies as well as the internal body, able to visualize things in
whatever way you want, then the mind will converge to the level
of unattractiveness within itself and see the harm of the
pictures of unattractiveness it paints as being one form of
illusion. It will then let go of both sides: both the side of
unattractiveness and the side of attractiveness.

Both
attractiveness and unattractiveness are labels coupled with the
affairs of lust. Once we have investigated and fully understood both
sides, the word 'attractive' will dissolve and no longer have
meaning. The word 'unattractive' will dissolve and no longer have
meaning. That which gives the meaning of 'attractive' and
'unattractive' is the mind or, in other words, sa˝˝a. We are
now wise to sa˝˝a as being what labels things. We see the
harm of this labeling, and so it will no longer be able to go out
interpreting in such a way as to make the mind grasp and be attached
again. When this is the case, the mind lets go of both
attractiveness and unattractiveness -- or of beauty and ugliness --
by seeing that they are simply dolls for training the mind and
discernment as long as the mind is still attached to them, and the
discernment for investigating to uproot them is not yet proficient
enough.

When
the mind is proficient and realizes the causes and effects of both
sides -- both attractiveness and unattractiveness -- it can at the
same time turn around to know its own labeling that goes out to
dress this thing up as attractive and that as unattractive. When it
knows this labeling clearly, the labeling disbands. The mind can see
its harm, in that this labeling is the culprit. The unattractive
object isn't the culprit. The attractive object isn't the culprit.
Instead, the labeling that says 'attractive' and 'unattractive'
is the culprit deceiving us and making us become attached. This
is where things start coming inward. Our investigation comes inward
like this and lets go, step by step.

When
the mind has reached this stage, then whether we focus on
attractiveness or unattractiveness, it will appear in the mind,
without our having to create an external image to exercise with,
just as when we travel and have passed progressively along a road.
The image appears in the mind. The moment it appears there, we
immediately know that sa˝˝a can label only as far as this and
can't go labeling outside. Even though the image appears in mind, we
know clearly that the phenomenon that appears there as attractive or
unattractive comes from sa˝˝a in the same way. We know the
image that appears in the mind as well as the sa˝˝a labeling
it, also as an image in the mind. Finally, the images in the mind
vanish. The sa˝˝a -- the labels, the interpretations --
disband. We know that the labels that used to fool us into seeing
things as attractive and unattractive and all sorts of other ways
without limit -- that used to fool us into falling for both of these
sides -- have disbanded. There is nothing further to deceive the
heart. This is how unattractiveness is investigated in line with the
principles of the practice -- but you won't find this anywhere in
the texts. You'll find it only if you search for the truth in the
principles of nature that exist with the body and mind -- the
location of the four Noble Truths and the four frames of reference
-- coming down finally to the text of the heart. That's where you'll
find the things I've explained here.

This is
the body. We can know clearly that every part of the body is simply
a physical phenomenon. And what is there in these physical
phenomena? All the parts -- hair of the head, hair of the body,
nails, teeth, skin, flesh, tendons, bones, marrow, spleen, heart,
liver, membranes, kidneys, lungs, intestines, stomach, gorge, feces
-- are just physical phenomena, things separate from the mind. If we
consider them as unattractive, they've been unattractive all along,
even before we considered them. And who is it that gives them
meaning, saying that this is attractive or that is unattractive?
When did these things ever give themselves meanings? When did they
ever say they were attractive or unattractive? They don't label or
say anything at all. Whatever their truth is, that's how it's always
been in line with its nature from the very beginning -- and they
don't know their meaning. What knows their meaning is sa˝˝a.
The one that falls for their meaning is also sa˝˝a, which
comes out of this deluded mind. Once we are wise to this labelling,
all these things disappear. Each has its separate reality. This is
what it means to be wise to these things.

Feelings (vedana) are the feelings of pleasure, pain, and
indifference that arise from the body. The body is a phenomenon that
has existed since before these feelings arose. Pains arise, remain,
and then vanish. The body is the body. The pain is a pain. Each is a
separate reality. Investigate and analyze them so as to see them for
what they are -- just a feeling, just a body -- without regarding
them as a being, a person, us or anyone else, ours or anyone else's.
The feeling isn't us, ours, or anyone else's. It's simply something
that appears for a moment and disappears for a while, in line with
its nature. That's what the truth is.

Sa˝˝a means labeling. Whatever it labels -- things near, far,
past, present, or future -- whatever it labels, it vanishes
immediately. It keeps vanishing -- arising and vanishing, arising
and vanishing -- so how can we regard it as a self, a being, a
person? Here we're referring to discernment on the refined level,
penetrating down in line with the truth that is clear to our heart
without our having to ask anyone else.

Sankhara means thought-formation: forming good thoughts, bad
thoughts, neutral thoughts. Whatever it forms is simply a matter of
arising and vanishing, arising and vanishing. We can't get any sense
out of these thought-formations at all if sa˝˝as don't take
up where they leave off and turn them into issues. As for sa˝˝as,
we already know them clearly, so what is there to form thoughts,
pick up where they leave off and grasp at them, turning them into
long issues? All there is, is just the arising and vanishing in the
mind. This is thought-formation. It's one reality, which the Buddha
calls the sankhara khandha.Khandha means heap or
aggregate. Rupa khandha means the physical heap. Vedana
khandha means the heap of feelings. Sa˝˝a khandha means
the heap of labels, the aggregate of labels. Sankhara khandha
means the heap of thought-formations, the aggregate of
thought-formations.

Vi˝˝ana khandha means the aggregate or heap of cognizance, that
which takes note the moment external things make contact, as when
visual images make contact with the eye and cognizance occurs. As
soon as the object passes, this cognizance vanishes. No matter what
thing it takes note of, it's always ready to vanish with that thing.
What sense or substance can we get out of these five khandhas?
How can we assume them to be us or ours?

This is
what the issues of the five khandhas are like. They've
occurred this way, appeared this way, arisen and vanished this way
one after another continually from the day of our birth to the
present moment. We can't find any meaning or substance in them at
all, unless the mind labels and interprets them, grasping onto them
as being itself or belonging to itself and then carrying their
weight -- which is heavier than an entire mountain -- within itself,
without any reward. Its only reward is suffering and stress, because
its own delusion has caused these things to reward it.

When
the mind has investigated and seen these things clearly with sharp
discernment, then the body is true in its body way, in line with the
principles of nature that are made clear with discernment. Feelings
of pain, pleasure, and indifference in the body are known clearly in
line with their truth. Feelings in the mind -- the pleasure, pain,
and indifference arising in the mind -- are the factor the mind
continues to be interested in investigating. Even though we may not
yet be abreast of these things, they have to be alerting the mind to
investigate them at all times, because on this level we aren't yet
able to keep abreast of feelings in the mind -- in other words, the
pleasure, pain, and indifference exclusively in the mind that aren't
related to feelings in the body.

Cognizance is simply a separate reality. We see this clearly as it
truly is. The mind has no more doubts that would cause it to latch
onto these things as its self, because each is a separate reality.
Even though they dwell together, they're like a piece of fruit or an
egg placed in a bowl. The bowl has to be a bowl. The egg placed
there is an egg. They aren't one and the same. The mind is the mind,
which lies in the bowl of the body, feelings, labels,
thought-formations, and cognizance, but it's not the body, feelings,
labels, thought-formations, or cognizance. It's simply the mind,
pure and simple, inside there. When we clearly make the distinction
between the mind and the khandhas, that's how it is.

Now
that the mind clearly understands the body, feelings, labels,
thought-formations, and cognizance, with nothing more to doubt, all
that remains is the fidgeting and rippling exclusively within the
mind. This rippling is a subtle form of sankhara that ripples
within the mind, a subtle form of pleasure, a subtle form of stress,
a subtle form of sa˝˝a appearing in the mind. That's all
there is. The mind will investigate and analyze these things at all
times with automatic mindfulness and discernment.

The
mind on this level is very refined. It has let go of all things. The
five khandhas no longer remain, but it hasn't yet let go of
itself: its awareness. This awareness, though, is still coated with
unawareness.

This is
called unawareness converging. It converges in the mind and can't
find any way out. The paths of unawareness are out the eyes, ears,
nose, tongue, and body, leading to sights, sounds, smells, tastes,
and tactile sensations. Once mindfulness and discernment have been
able to cut these paths step by step, unawareness has no way out. It
doesn't have any following, so it just goes 'blip... blip...
blip...' within itself, taking just the mind as the support onto
which it latches because it can't find any way out. It displays
itself as a subtle feeling of pleasure, a subtle feeling of stress,
a radiance that's extremely amazing as long as discernment isn't yet
all-around and can't yet destroy it. The mind keeps contemplating
right there.

No
matter how radiant or magnificent it may be, any conventional
reality -- no matter how refined -- has to display a symptom of one
sort or another that will arouse the mind's suspicions enough to
make it look for a way to remedy the situation. Thus the pleasure
and stress that are refined phenomena appearing exclusively within
the mind, together with the brightness and marvelousness, have
unawareness as their ringleader; but because we have never
encountered them before, we're deluded into holding onto them when
we first investigate into this point, and are lulled sound asleep by
unawareness so that we grasp onto the radiance -- to the pleasure,
to the marvelousness, or to the magnificence arising from the
unawareness embedded in the mind -- as being our self. And so we
assume the mind complete with unawareness to be our self, without
our realizing what we are doing.

But not
for long -- because of the power of super-mindfulness and
super-discernment, qualities that by now are uncomplacent. They keep
scrutinizing, investigating, and analyzing back and forth in line
with their nature on this level. The time will have to come when
they know for sure by noticing the subtle pleasure that behaves just
slightly in an irregular manner. Even though stress displays itself
just barely, in line with this level of the mind, it's enough to
make us suspicious: 'Eh -- why does the mind have symptoms like
this? It's not constant.' The magnificence displaying itself in the
mind, the marvelousness displaying itself in the mind, display
irregularities just barely, but enough for mindfulness and
discernment to catch sight of them.

Once
they catch sight of these things, they get suspicious and take them
as the point to be investigated at that moment. So now the mind --
this sort of awareness -- becomes the target of their investigation.
They focus down on this point to find out, 'What is this? We've
investigated everything of every sort to the point where we've been
able to uproot it all, stage by stage, but this knowing nature, so
bright, so amazing: What exactly is it?'

Mindfulness and discernment keep focusing on down and investigating.
This point thus becomes the target of a full-scale investigation,
the battlefield of automatic mindfulness and discernment at that
moment. Before long, they are able to destroy the mind of
unawareness that is so superlative, so amazing and magnificent from
the viewpoint of unawareness, smashing and scattering it completely
so that nothing, not even an atom, is left remaining in the heart.

When
the nature on which we ignorantly conferred such titles as
superlative and amazing is dissolved away, something on which we
don't have to confer the titles of superlative or not-superlative
appears in full measure. That nature is purity. And this
purity: When we compare it with the mind of unawareness that we once
held to be superlative and supreme, the mind of unawareness is like
a pile of cow dung, while the nature that had been concealed by
unawareness, once it is revealed, is like pure gold. Pure gold and
squishy cow dung: Which has greater value? Even a baby sucking his
thumb can answer, so we needn't waste our time and expose our
stupidity by making comparisons.

This is
the investigation of the mind. This level, when we have reached it,
is where things are severed completely from becoming and birth in
the mind, severed completely from all unawareness and craving. 'Avijja-paccaya
sankhara' -- 'With unawareness as condition, there occur
thought-formations' -- is completely severed and becomes 'avijjayatveva
asesaviraga-nirodha sankhara-nirodho, sankhara-nirodha
vi˝˝ana-nirodho...' -- 'Simply with the disbanding of
unawareness, with no remaining passion, thought-formations disband.
With the disbanding of thought-formations, cognizance disbands...'
all the way to 'this is the disbanding of this entire mass of
stress.'

When
unawareness has disbanded, the formations that are the cause of
stress disband and keep disbanding, just as the Buddha said, while
the formations that continue as part of the khandhas become
formations pure and simple, and aren't a cause of stress. The
cognizance that appears in the heart is cognizance pure and simple,
and not cognizance as a cause of stress. 'Vi˝˝ana-paccaya
namarupam, namarupam-paccaya salayatanam, salyatana-paccaya phasso'
-- whatever is a physical or mental phenomenon, a sense medium, or a
sensory contact is simply its own simple nature. It can't provoke
the mind that has finished its task to the point of 'evametassa
kevalassa dukkhakkhandhassa nirodho hoti' -- 'This is the
disbanding of this entire mass of stress.' The words, 'evametassa
kevalassa' -- 'all things mentioned here' -- have absolutely
disbanded. This is called disbanding in full measure.

When we
disband defilement, craving, and unawareness, when we disband the
world of rebirth, where do we disband it if not in the mind, which
is the essence of the world of rebirth, the essence of unawareness,
the essence of birth, aging, illness, and death. The seeds of birth,
aging, illness, and death -- namely, passion and craving, with
unawareness as their ringleader -- lie only here in the mind. When
they are completely scattered from the mind, there is simply 'nirodho
hoti' -- 'This is the disbanding...'

This,
then, is the work of the practice in line with the principles of the
Buddha's teachings. From the time of the Buddha down to the present,
these principles have remained constant. There are no deficiencies
or excesses in the principles of the Dhamma taught by the Buddha
that would make it unable to keep up with the tricks and deceits of
the various forms of defilement. This is why it's called the middle
way: the Dhamma always appropriate for curing every sort of
defilement to the point where defilement no longer remains. This is
how you should understand the power of the middle way. Hold to this
path in your practice, because release from suffering and stress is
something with a value transcending all three levels of existence.
And what do we see in any of the three levels of existence that
is more fantastic than the release of the heart from all suffering
and stress? When we see this clearly with our reason, our
efforts in the practice will be able to advance. We'll be ready to
die in the battle. If it means death, then go ahead and die -- die
in the battle for victory over the defilements that have smothered
the heart for so long. There is no teaching, no tool at all that can
attack the defilements and strike them down like the middle way
taught by the Lord Buddha.

For
this reason, we can be secure and confident in the words, 'Buddham
saranam gacchami' -- 'I go for refuge in the Buddha' -- in that
he practiced so that both the causes and the results -- everything
of every sort -- were perfect and complete, before taking the Dhamma
to teach the world. 'Svakkhato bhagavata dhammo' -- 'The
Dhamma of the Blessed One is well taught.' He taught it well in
every facet from having comprehended and seen the truth of every
thing of every sort. 'Sangham saranam gacchami' -- 'I go for
refuge in the Sangha.' The Noble Disciples who practiced in line
with the principles of the Buddha's Dhamma -- without slacking or
weakening, enabling themselves to expel defilement from their
hearts, making their hearts superlative and becoming our refuge --
did so without going outside the principles of this middle way. So I
ask that you listen to this and take it to heart. Don't set your
heart on the deceitful and counterfeit issues filling the world of
rebirth. Set your heart on the truth of the Dhamma, the truth of the
practice. You will see the truth continually appearing in your heart
in the midst of all the counterfeit things in the heart and
throughout the world. Don't harbor any doubts, for that would be to
linger over the defilements that know no end.

In
practicing the Dhamma, aim at the qualities of the heart -- virtue,
concentration, and discernment -- more than at material things.
As for material things, if we have just enough to get by, that's
plenty enough. Wherever you go... We are born from human beings. We
monks come from people. People have homes; we monks need places to
stay -- enough to provide ordinary shelter -- but they should be
just enough to get by. Don't make them fancy. Don't go competing
with the world outside. That would simply foster your own
defilements and make you known throughout the world in a way that
the defilements would ridicule. Make yourself known instead for your
virtue, concentration, and discernment, your conviction and
persistence. Make yourself known for having striven to cure yourself
or extricate yourself, to gain release from defilement and the mass
of stress in the cycle of rebirth. This is what it means genuinely
and directly to enhance your stature. Don't abandon your efforts.
Make it to the other shore of this turning, churning cycle in this
lifetime -- which is much surer than any other lifetime, any other
time or place.

And
don't forget, wherever you go: Don't get involved in construction
work. Everywhere we go these days, there's construction work and
monks involved in it. It's enough to make you sick. As soon as they
meet each other: 'How's it going with your meeting hall?' 'How's it
going with your school? Are you finished yet? How much has it cost?'
Whenever there's a project, whatever the project, they go harassing
lay people, gathering up funds, so that the lay people have to spend
money and get embroiled too, without any respite. Let the lay people
have enough money so that they can stash some of it away. They
practically kill themselves just to scrape together a little cash,
but instead of being able to use it to provide for their stomachs,
for their families, their children, and other essentials, and for
making merit at their leisure, they end up having to hand it all
over to help the monks who harass them by fund-raising to the point
where they're left empty-handed. This is the religion of harassing
the world, which the Buddha never practiced and never taught us to
practice. So I want you all to understand this. The Buddha never
acted this way. This is the religion of material objects, the
religion of money, not the religion of Dhamma following the example
of the Buddha.

Look
around us: Monks' dwellings as large as Doi Inthanon. [3]
How many stories do they have? They stretch up to the sky. How
luxurious are they? How much do they make you sick to your heart?
Even my own dwelling, I can't help feeling embarrassed by it, even
though I stay there against my will and have to put up with the
embarrassment. They sent the money to build it without letting me
know in advance. I'm ashamed of the fact that while I have asked for
alms all my life, my dwelling... even a palace in heaven is no match
for it, while the people who give alms live in shacks no bigger than
your fist. What's appropriate, what's fitting for monks who are
habitually conscious of danger, is to live wherever you can squeeze
yourself in to sit and lie down. But as for your effort in the
practice, I ask that you be solid and stable, diligent and
persevering.

Don't
waste your time by letting any job become an obstacle, because
exterior work, for the most part, is work that destroys your work at
mental development for the sake of killing and destroying
defilement. This is the major task in body and mind for monks who
aim at release and feel no desire to come back to be reborn and die,
to carry the mass of major and minor sufferings in levels of
becoming and birth any more. There's no danger greater than the
danger of defilement smothering the heart, able to force and coerce
the heart into suffering everything to which the Dhamma doesn't
aspire. There's no suffering greater than the suffering of a person
oppressed by defilement. If we don't fight with defilement while
we're ordained, will we be able to fight with it after we die? The
vagaries of life and the body are things we can put up with, but
don't put up with the oppression of defilement any longer, for that
wouldn't be at all fitting for monks who are disciples of the
Tathagata.

Whether
things may be just enough to get by, or however much they may be
lacking, be sure to look to the Tathagata as your refuge at all
times. Don't let things that are unnecessary for monks become
luxurious beyond all reason -- such as building things to the point
of competing with the world outside and being crazy for hollow rank
and fame, without being interested in building the Dhamma to revive
the heart from its stupor. The people of the world live in flimsy
little shacks that are ready to collapse at a sneeze. Whatever they
get, they deny their own stomachs and their families so that they
can make merit and give donations to monks. But monks live in
many-storied mansions -- fancier and more luxurious than those of
heavenly beings -- as if they had never lived in tiny shacks with
their parents before becoming ordained. And who knows what they have
decorating their mansions in competition with the world outside? It
makes you more embarrassed than a young bride when her mother-in-law
sneezes and passes wind so loud she practically faints. We forget
that our heads are shaved: Why don't we ever think about what that
means? Aren't we becoming too shameless? This isn't in line with the
principles of the religion that teach those who are ordained to cure
their defilements by seeing the dangers in worldly comforts. These
sorts of things clutter up the religion and the hearts of us monks,
so I ask that you not think of getting involved in them. Be
conscious always of the fact that they aren't the principles of the
Dhamma for curing defilement in a way the heart can see clearly.
Instead, they're means for making monks forget themselves and become
involved in the business of defilement, which is none of their
business as monks at all.

The
primary principle of the Dhamma for monks is 'rukkhamula-senasanam
nissaya pabbajja, tatha te yava-jivam ussaho karaniyo' -- 'Once
you have ordained in the religion of the Buddha, you are to live
under the shade of trees, in forests and mountains, in caves, under
overhanging cliffs, in the open, by haystacks, which are all places
suitable for killing defilement, for wiping out the defilements in
your hearts. Try to act in this way all of your life.' Everything
else -- such as the things termed 'extraneous gains' (atireka-labho)
-- are unnecessary comforts.

The
work the Buddha would have us do is the contemplation of kesa,loma,nakha,danta,taco;taco,danta,nakha,loma,kesa: hair of the
head, hair of the body, nails, teeth, skin; skin, teeth, nails, hair
of the body, hair of the head, and from there on to the 32 parts of
the body -- beginning with hair of the head, hair of the body,
nails, teeth, skin, flesh, tendons, bones, marrow, spleen, heart,
liver, membranes, kidneys, lungs, intestines, stomach, gorge, and
feces -- which exist in each of us. 'Try to unravel these things
with your discernment so as to see them as they truly are. When you
have completed this work with the full mindfulness and discernment
of heroes, then release from suffering -- that tremendous treasure
-- will be yours.' Listen to that! Isn't it far removed from the way
we like to take our pleasure with the scraps and leftovers that the
Buddha taught us to relinquish in every word, every phrase, every
book of the Dhamma?

We
ourselves are the adversaries of the teachings of the religion. We
luxuriate in everything the Dhamma criticizes. Lay people are no
match for us. Whenever they get anything good, they use it to make
merit and give to monks. Whatever they eat and use is just so as to
get by. All they ask for is good things to give to monks, in line
with their nature as merit-seekers, while we monks have become
luxury-seekers. Our dwellings are fine, the things we use are fine,
and on top of that some of us have radios, TV sets, cars... If you
compare this with the basic rules of the Dhamma and Vinaya, it makes
you more heartsick than you can say. How is it that we have the
stomach to kill the Buddha red-handed this way with our shameless
and unthinking ostentation as monks? It really makes you
embarrassed.

So I
ask that each of you reflect a great deal on these matters. If
you've ordained really for the sake of the Buddha, Dhamma, and
Sangha -- and not for the sake of being adversaries of the Buddha's
teachings -- I ask that you reflect on the Dhamma and the path
followed by the Buddha more than on any other matter. No time
excels the time of the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha that they have
set as an example for us to follow. This is a very important
principle. I ask that you all follow the principles of the time of
the Buddha. The results, which are refreshing and satisfying, are
sure to appear in line with the principles of the well-taught
Dhamma, the Dhamma that leads out from suffering. There's no way to
doubt this.

These
things I've practiced to a fair extent myself. I used to be a junior
monk too, you know. When I went to study and train with my teachers
-- and especially Ven. Acariya Mun -- I really listened. I listened
to him speak. He would speak half in earnest, half in jest, in the
ordinary way of teachers talking with their students, but I would
never listen in jest. I always listened in earnest and took things
to heart. I had the greatest imaginable love and fear and respect
for him. I'd hold to every facet of what he'd say that I could put
into practice. What I've been able to teach my students is due to
the power of what he taught me. For this reason, even though in this
monastery we may conduct ourselves somewhat differently from other
monasteries in general, I'm confident in line with the principles of
reason and of the Dhamma and Vinaya so that I'm not worried about
the matter. I don't think that what we do is wrong, because I have
the example of the Buddha's teaching and of my teachers --
everything of every sort that follows the original patterns -- which
is why I've led my fellow meditators to practice this way all along.
Whether this is right or wrong, we have to decide in line with the
principles of reason. Deference to people is an affair of the world,
an affair of individuals, and not an affair of the Dhamma and Vinaya,
which are fixed principles for the practice. Speaking in line with
the Dhamma for the sake of understanding and right practice: That's
the genuine Dhamma. For this reason, an unwillingness to speak the
truth for fear of stepping on someone's toes is not a trait for
those who aim at the Dhamma together.

...This
state of mind with its unawareness is a magnificent mind, bold and
daring -- not only radiant, but also bold and daring as well, and
reckless because of its daring, in thinking that it's smart. It's
not reckless in the ordinary way. It's reckless in line with its
nature as a state of mind of this sort. This is called the nine
forms of mana, or conceit. The nine forms of conceit lie
right here. The Buddha explains this in the five higher fetters (sanyojana):
passion for form, passion for formlessness, conceit, restlessness,
and unawareness. Conceit means to assume -- to assume that the state
of mind blended into one with unawareness is one's self, that it's
'me' or 'mine', and then taking it to make comparisons: 'How is it
with those people or these people? Are their minds on a par with
mine? Higher than mine? Lower than mine?' This is why there are nine
forms of conceit. In other words, three times three is nine. For
example, our mind is lower than theirs, and we assume it to be lower
than theirs, higher than theirs, or on a par. Our mind is on a par
with theirs, and we assume it to be lower than theirs, higher than
theirs, or on a par. Our mind is higher than theirs, and we assume
it to be lower than theirs, higher than theirs, or on a par.

The
refined level of defilement takes this state of mind out to make the
comparison -- because it's in the phase where it has fangs. Its
fangs are growing sharp. The fangs of unawareness: They're called
conceit, or self-assumption. Once this state is dissolved, what is
there to assume? What is there to be radiant? To be defiled? To be
bold and daring? To be afraid? There isn't anything, once that
nature dissolves through the power of investigation.

These
things, you know, are phenomena that create problems in line with
their level. Their level is subtle, so they manage to create subtle
problems. Blatant defilements create blatant problems. Subtle
defilements create subtle problems. When the defilements are gone,
there's nothing to create any problems. There are no more problems
in any way, no more conditions for conventional reality to make
further connections. All that remains is absolute purity, which is
why there are no more problems.

Absolute purity is a condition for what? What problems does it
create? The Buddha says that we run out of problems. This is where
they run out. However many levels of becoming and birth there may be
in the mind, it has known them step by step until it reaches the
converging point, leaving just the seeds of these things that get
planted here and there as birth. So we burn them up with tapas,
the fire of our effort, until they are completely eradicated. So now
are there any levels of becoming and birth to make further
connections? Whom do we have to ask? Even if the buddha were
sitting right in front of us, we wouldn't ask him, because the truth
is the same for us as it is for him. There's nothing different
enough for us to ask. This is why the Dhamma is said to be
sanditthiko: We know it and see it ourself. Paccattam
veditabbo vi˝˝uhi: Those who know it, know it for themselves
alone. This means that only those who know it from the practice can
know it. It can't be made available to anyone else.

This is
what the Buddha calls vusitam brahmacariyam: It's the end of
the job. The earth-shattering job is done -- earth-shattering
because becoming and birth build themselves up with earth, water,
wind, and fire; or because any level of becoming and birth is a
matter of convention, which is now overturned. This is why we say
it's earth-shattering. So what is there to move in and take up
residence in the mind?

Now we
can watch defilement. Once we have completely killed defilement in
this mind, then how can defilement be kept hidden from us when it
displays itself in anyone else's mind or actions? This mind can't
help but know it every time. As they say, defilement ordinarily
rules us completely without our knowing it, but how can the Buddha
and the arahants have any trouble seeing? They see in the flash of
an eye and they're already disgusted. Those who know, know to the
point where they're disgusted: What do you say to that? As for
us, we're the blind living with the blind. We don't know our own
affairs or those of anyone else. Neither side knows, but each side
thinks that it knows, assumes that it knows, assumes that it's right
-- and so both sides argue and bite each other like dogs because
their inner eyes don't see. They don't have the eye of discernment
like the Buddha and the Noble Disciples. This is the way it is with
defilement: It has to assume itself and exalt itself. The more vile
it is, the more it assumes itself to be good. This is the way
defilement is. It has never submitted to the truth of the Dhamma
from time immemorial.

For
this reason, we practice to stamp out these things. Don't let them
linger in the heart. Stamp them out till they're completely
scattered and smashed, and then you can be at your ease: the mind
completely open and yet a reservoir for the quality of purity,
without an inkling of convention passing in. If we were to make a
comparison with conventional reality, it's an outer space mind, but
that's just a manner of speaking.

People
who practice in earnestness, trying to develop and improve the
qualities in their hearts step by step, beginning with virtue, the
stages of concentration, and the levels of discernment, are -- to
make a comparison -- like the people who build a rocket or a
satellite to travel in outer space. They have to put their vehicle
into good shape. Otherwise it won't get off the ground -- because
the things that can act as obstacles to their vehicle are many. The
object that's going to travel in space has to be developed in order
to be completely suited to its environment in every way. Before they
can get it safely past its obstacles, they need to have made ample
calculations. Even then, there are times when mishaps occur. But
once the vehicle has been thoroughly developed, it can travel easily
in outer space without any mishaps of any sort. This is an analogy
for the minds of those who practice, who have developed their inner
qualities and put them in to shape.

The
heart is what will step out beyond the realm of conventional
realities that exert a gravitational pull on it, into the outer
space beyond convention: to vimutti, or release. The things
that act as obstacles, preventing it from stepping out, are the
various kinds of defilement.

For
this reason, we have to make a very great effort. The defilements
have various levels of crudeness and subtlety, so in developing the
heart so as to pass through the crudeness and subtlety of the
various levels of conventional reality -- and of the defilements in
particular -- we must try to make it just right. We must use
whatever qualities are needed to get the mind past the crudeness of
conventional realities or defilement, stage by stage, by means of
our practice, by means of our efforts to improve and develop it. Our
persistence has to be strong. Our efforts, our endeavors in all ways
have to be strong. Mindfulness and discernment are the important
factors that will take the heart beyond the various obstacles
thwarting it step by step. All of the techniques and strategies
taught by the Buddha in the area of meditation are means for
developing the heart so that it will be suited to transcending the
realm of conventional reality and reaching outer space: nibbana.

What is
it like, the outer space of the Dhamma? They no longer doubt about
whether the outer space of the world exists or not. The things that
lie within conventional reality are known to exist. Outer space
beyond our atmosphere is another level of conventional reality.
Outer space: What is it like? Does it exist? How does our world in
the atmosphere differ from the things outside the world of our
atmosphere called outer space? Both of these levels exist.

The
mind that lies in the realm of conventional reality -- surrounded
and controlled -- is like the various objects in the world trapped
by the pull of gravity at all times. The mind is trapped by the pull
of defilement in just the same way. It can't escape, which is why it
must develop its strength to escape from the world of this
gravitational pull. This gravitational pull is something the Buddha
has already explained. In brief, there is craving for sensuality,
craving for becoming, and craving for no becoming. The details --
the branches and offshoots -- are more than can be numbered. They
fill this world of conventional realities. They are all factors that
make the mind attached and entangled -- loving, hating, and
resenting different things, different beings, different people. All
these factors can be adversaries to the heart and come from the
preoccupations of the heart itself that labels things and
misinterprets them.

For
this reason, the principles of the Dhamma that the Buddha taught in
the area of meditation for developing and modifying the heart are
very appropriate for helping us as meditators to escape from all the
things in our hearts that exert a pull on us or weigh us down. These
things are hard to remove, hard to remedy, hard to sever, which is
why we need a Teacher to guide us. If we had no Teacher, the living
beings in the three realms of the cosmos -- no matter how many
thousands or millions of forms and levels there are -- would all be
as if deaf and blind. Not one of them would be able to escape from
this darkness and blindness. This is why we should have a heartfelt
sense of the awesomeness of the arising of a Buddha, who leads
living beings to escape from this gravitational pull, from this
oppressiveness, safely and in large numbers -- to the point where no
one else can compare -- beginning with each Buddha's foremost
disciples and on to the end of his dispensation, when his teachings
no longer exist in the hearts of living beings, which is the final
point in his work of ferrying living beings from all sorts of
blindness, darkness, suffering, and stress.

Our
present Buddha performed these duties with the full mindfulness and
discernment of his great mercy and compassion, beginning with the
day of his Awakening. It's as if he took a large ship and cast
anchor in the middle of the ocean in order to gather the living
beings of various kinds and strengths adrift in the water on the
verge of death and bring them on board stage by stage. Those who
take an interest in the Dhamma are like beings who struggle to get
on board the Buddha's ship that has cast anchor in the middle of the
sea. They keep climbing on board, climbing on board, until the day
when the beings of the world have no more belief in the teachings of
the religion. That's when the ship will no longer have any function.
Those who are still left in the sea will have to stay there adrift,
with no more way of escape. They are the ones who are to become food
for the fishes and turtles.

Those
who have come on board, though, are the various stages of those who
have been able to escape, as mentioned in the four types of
individuals, beginning with the ugghatita˝˝u,vipacita˝˝u
and neyya. These are the ones who have come on board. How
high or low they are able to go depends on their individual
capabilities. There are those who escape completely -- those free of
defilement; there are those on the verge of escape -- the non-returners
(anagami); those in the middle -- the once-returners (sakidagami);
and then the stream-winners (sotapanna); and finally ordinary
good people. Here we're referring to the Buddha's ship in its
general sense. He uses it to salvage living beings, beginning from
the day of his Awakening until the point when the teachings of the
religion have no more meaning in the world's sensibilities. That's
the final point. Those who remain are the diseased who can find no
medicine or physician to treat their illnesses and are simply
awaiting their day to die.

So now
we are swimming and struggling toward the Buddha's large ship by
making the effort of the practice. In particular, now that we have
ordained in the Buddha's religion and have developed a feel for his
teaching, this makes us even more moved, even more convinced of all
the truths that he taught rightly about good and evil, right and
wrong, hell, heaven, the Brahma worlds, and nibbana, all of
which are realities that actually exist.

We have
followed the principles of the Buddha's Dhamma, and in particular
the practice of meditation. Try to build up your strength and
ability without flagging, so as to resist and remove all the things
that coerce or exert a gravitational pull on the heart. Don't let
yourself become accustomed to their pull. They pull you to
disaster, not to anything else. They're not forces that will
pull you to what is auspicious. They'll pull you to what's
inauspicious, step by step, depending on how much you believe, give
in, and are overcome by their pull. Suffering will then appear in
proportion to how much you unconsciously agree, give in, and are
overcome by their pull. Even though there are the teachings of the
religion to pull you back, the mind tends to take the lower path
more than the path of the religion, which is why it is set adrift.
But we're not the type to be set adrift. We're the type who are
swimming to release using the full power of our intelligence and
abilities.

Wherever you are, whatever you do, always be on the alert with
mindfulness. Don't regard the effort of the practice as tiring, as
something wearisome, difficult to do, difficult to get right,
difficult to contend with. Struggle and effort: These are the path
for those who are to gain release from all stress and danger, not
the path of those headed downward to the depths of hell, blind and
in the dark by day and by night, their minds consumed by all things
lowly and vile.

The
Noble Ones in the time of the Buddha practiced in earnest. With the
words, 'I go to the Buddha for refuge,' or 'I go to the Sangha for
refuge,' we should reflect on their Dhamma, investigating and
unraveling it so as to see the profundity and subtlety of their
practice. At the same time, we should take their realizations into
our hearts as good examples to follow, so that we can conduct
ourselves in the footsteps of their practices and realizations.

'I go
to the Buddha for refuge.' We all know how difficult it was for him
to become the Buddha. We should engrave it in our hearts. Our
Teacher was the first pioneer in our age to the good destination for
the sake of all living beings. Things were never made easy for him.
From the day of his renunciation to the day of his Awakening, it was
as if he were in hell -- there's no need to compare it to being in
prison -- because he had been very delicately brought up in his
royal home. When he renounced the household life, he faced great
difficulties in terms of the four necessities. In addition, there
were many, many defilements in his heart related to his treasury and
to the nation filled with his royal subjects. It weighed heavily on
his heart at all times that he had to leave these things behind. He
found no comfort or peace at all, except when he was sound asleep.

As for
us, we don't have a following, don't have subjects, have never been
kings. We became ordained far more easily than the Buddha. And when
we make the effort of the practice, we have his teachings, correct
in their every aspect, as our guide. Our practice isn't really
difficult like that of the Buddha, who had to struggle on his own
with no one to guide him. On this point, we're very different. We
have a much lighter burden in the effort of the practice than the
Buddha, who was of royal birth.

Food,
wherever we go, is full to overflowing, thanks to the faith of those
who are already convinced of the Buddha's teachings and are not
lacking in interest and faith for those who practice rightly. For
this reason, monks -- wherever they go -- are not lacking in the
four necessities of life, which is very different from the case of
the Buddha.

All of
the Noble Disciples who followed in the Buddha's footsteps were
second to him in terms of the difficulties they faced. They had a
much easier time as regards the four necessities of life, because
people by and large had already begun to have faith and conviction
in the teachings. But even so, the disciples didn't take pleasure in
the four necessities more than in the Dhamma, in making the
single-minded effort to gain release from suffering and stress. This
is something very pleasing, something very worthy to be taken as an
example. They gave their hearts, their lives -- every part of
themselves -- in homage to the Buddha and Dhamma, to the point where
they all became homage to the Sangha within themselves. In doing so,
they all encountered difficulties, every one of them.

Because
the Dhamma is something superior and superlative, whoever meets it
has to develop and prosper through its power day by day, step by
step, to a state of superlative excellence. As for the defilements,
there is no type of defilement that can take anyone to peace,
security, or excellence of any kind.

The
defilements know this. They know that the Dhamma far excels them, so
they disguise themselves thoroughly to keep us from knowing their
tricks and deceits. In everything we do, they have to lie behind the
scenes, showing only their tactics and strategies, which are nothing
but means of fooling living beings into falling for them and staying
attached to them. This is very ingenious on their part.

For
this reason, those who make the effort of the practice are
constantly bending under their gravitational pull. Whether we are
doing sitting meditation, walking meditation -- whatever our posture
-- we keep bending and leaning under their pull. They pull us toward
laziness and lethargy. They pull us toward discouragement and
weakness. They pull us into believing that our mindfulness and
discernment are too meager for the teachings of the religion. They
pull us into believing that our capacities are too meager to deserve
the Dhamma, to deserve the paths, fruitions, and nibbana, or
to deserve the Buddha's teachings. All of these things are the
tactics of the pull of defilement to draw us solely into failure,
away from the Dhamma. If we don't practice the Dhamma so as to get
above these things, we won't have any sense at all that they are all
deceits of defilement. When we have practiced so as to get beyond
them step by step, though, they won't be able to remain hidden. No
matter how sharp and ingenious the various kinds of defilement may
be, they don't lie beyond the power of mindfulness and discernment.
This is why the Buddha saw causes and effects, benefits and harm, in
a way that went straight to his heart, because of his intelligence
that transcended defilement.

For
this reason, when he taught the Dhamma to the world, he did so with
full compassion so that living beings could truly escape from
danger, from the depths of the world so full of suffering. He wanted
the beings of the world to see the marvelousness, the awesomeness of
the Dhamma that had had such an impact within his heart, so that
they too would actually see as he did. This is why his proclamation
of the Dhamma was done in full measure, for it was based on his
benevolence. He didn't proclaim it with empty pronouncements or as
empty ceremony. That sort of thing didn't exist in the Buddha.
Instead, he was truly filled with benevolence for the living beings
of the world.

His
activities as Buddha -- the five duties of the Buddha we are always
hearing about -- he never abandoned, except for the few times he
occasionally set them aside in line with events. But even though he
set them aside, it wasn't because he had set his benevolence
aside. He set them aside in keeping with events and
circumstances. For example, when he spent the rains alone in the
Prileyya Forest, he had no following, and none of the monks entered
the forest to receive instruction from him, which meant that this
activity was set aside. Other than that, though, he performed his
duties to the full because of his benevolence, with nothing lacking
in any way.

This is
a matter of his having seen things clearly in his heart: the harm of
all things dangerous, and the benefits of all things beneficial. The
Buddha had touched and known them in every way, which is why he had
nothing to doubt. His teaching of the Dhamma regarding harms and
benefits was thus done in full measure. He analyzed harm into all
its branches. He analyzed benefits into all their branches and
completely revealed the differing degrees of benefits they gave. The
beings of the world who had lived drearily with suffering and stress
for untold aeons and were capable of learning of the excellence of
the Dhamma from the Buddha: How could they remain complacent? Once
they had heard the teachings of the religion truly resonating in
their very own ears and hearts -- because of the truth, the honesty,
the genuine compassion of the Buddha -- they had to wake up. The
beings of the world had to wake up. They had to accept the truth.

That
truth is of two kinds. The truth on the side of harm is one kind of
truth: It really is stressful, and the origin of stress really
creates stress to burn the hearts of living beings. As for the path,
it really creates ease and happiness for living beings. Those who
listened to these truths, listened with all their hearts. This being
the case, the strength of will they developed, their conviction, and
their clear vision of both harm and benefits all gathered to become
a strength permeating the one heart of each person. So why shouldn't
these things reveal their full strength and manifest themselves as
persistence, effort, earnestness, and determination in every
activity for the sake of gaining release from all dangers and
adversity by means of the Dhamma?

This is
why the disciples who heard the Dhamma from the Buddha, from the
mouth of the foremost Teacher, felt inspired and convinced. Many of
them even came to see the Dhamma and gain release from suffering and
stress, step by step to the point of absolute release, right there
in the Buddha's presence. As we've seen the texts say: When the
Buddha was explaining the Dhamma for the sake of those who could be
taught, his followers -- such as the monks -- attained the Dhamma to
ultimate release, nibbana, in no small numbers. This is
what happens when truth meets with truth. They fit together
easily with no difficulty at all. Those who listened did so by
really seeing the benefits and harm, really convinced by the reasons
of the Dhamma taught by the Buddha, which is why they gained clear
results right then and there.

The
Dhamma -- both the harm and benefits that the Buddha explained in
his day and age, and that existed in the hearts of his listeners in
that day and age: In what way is it different from the truths
existing in our hearts at present? They're all the same nature of
truth, the same Noble Truths. They don't lie beyond the four Noble
Truths, either in the Buddha's time or in the present.

The
Buddha's instructions were the truth of the path, teaching people to
have virtue, concentration, and discernment so that they could truly
understand the affairs of stress straight to the heart and remove
the cause of stress, which is a thorn or a spear stabbing the heart
of living beings, creating suffering and stress that go straight to
the heart as well. The truth of stress exists in our bodies and
minds. The truth of the origin of stress reveals itself blatantly in
our hearts in our every activity. What can reveal itself only
intermittently, or not at all, is the path -- even though we are
listening to it right now.

What is
the path? Mindfulness and discernment. Right View and
Right Attitude: These things refer to the levels of discernment.
If we add Right Mindfulness, then when we have these three
qualities nourishing the heart, Right Concentration will
arise because of our right activities. Right Activity, for
those who are to extricate themselves from stress, refers primarily
to the work of removing defilement -- for example, the work of
sitting and walking meditation, the work of guarding the heart with
mindfulness, using mindfulness and discernment continually to
investigate and contemplate the different kinds of good and bad
things making contact with us at all times. This is called building
the path within the heart.

When we
bring the path out to contend with our adversary -- the origin of
stress -- what facet is the adversary displaying? The facet of love?
What does it love? What exactly is the object it loves? Here we
focus mindfulness and discernment in on unraveling the object that's
loved. What is the object in actuality? Unravel it so as to
see it through and through, being really intent in line with the
principles of mindfulness and discernment. Reflect back and forth,
again and again, so as to see it clearly. The object that's loved or
lovable will fade away of its own accord because of our discernment.
Mindfulness and discernment wash away all the artifice, all that is
counterfeit in that so-called love step by step until it is all
gone. This is the discernment we build up in the heart to wash away
all the artifices, all the filth with which the defilements plaster
things inside and out.

Outside, they plaster these things on sights, sounds, smells,
tastes, and tactile sensations. Inside, they plaster them on labels
-- sa˝˝a -- that go out our eyes... They plaster things
beginning with our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body, stage by
stage. There's nothing but the plaster of defilement. When we meet
with these things, seeing them or hearing them, sa˝˝a --
labels and interpretations -- and sankhara --
thought-formations -- appear in the mind. These continue plastering
layer on layer.

For
this reason, we must use discernment to investigate. Whatever is
plastered outside, wash that plastering away. Then turn around to
wash away the plastering inside. When we have seen these things
clearly with discernment, how can discernment help but turn to find
the important culprit, the deceiver inside? It has to turn
inside. In using mindfulness and discernment, this is how we must
use them. When we investigate, this is how we investigate -- and we
do it earnestly. This is Right Activity in the area of the practice.

Right Speech: As I've said before, we speak in line with the ten
topics of effacement (sallekha-dhamma). We don't bring
matters of the world, politics, commerce, matters of women and men,
matters of defilement and craving to converse among ourselves so as
to become distracted and conceited, piling on more defilement and
stress, in line with the things we discuss. With the topics of
effacement -- that's what the Buddha called them -- we speak of
things that will strengthen our will to make persistent effort,
making us convinced and inspired with the Dhamma. At the same time,
these topics are warnings against heedlessness and means of washing
away the various kinds of defilement when we hear them from one
another. This is Right Speech in the area of the practice.

Right Livelihood: Feed your heart with Dhamma. Don't bring in
poison -- greed, anger, delusion, or lust -- to feed the heart, for
these things will be toxic, burning the heart and making it far more
troubled than any poisonous substances could. Try to guard your
heart well with mindfulness and discernment. The savor of the
Dhamma, beginning with concentration as its basis, will appear as
peace and calm within the heart in proportion to the levels of
concentration. Then use discernment to unravel the various things
that the mind labels and interprets, so as to see them clearly step
by step. This is called Right Livelihood -- guarding the heart
rightly, feeding it correctly with the nourishment of the Dhamma,
and not with the various kinds of defilement, craving, and mental
effluents that are like poisons burning the heart. Reduce matters to
these terms, meditators. This is called Right Livelihood in the
practice of meditation.

Right
Effort,
as I've said before, means persistence in abandoning all forms of
evil. This covers everything we've said so far. The Buddha defines
this as persistence in four areas, or of four sorts, [4]
but since I've already explained this many times, I'll pass over it
here.

Right Mindfulness: What does the Buddha have us keep in mind?
All the things that will remove defilement. For example, he has us
keep the four frames of reference in mind: being mindful as we
investigate the body; being mindful as we investigate feelings;
being mindful as we investigate the mind; being mindful as we
investigate phenomena that involve the mind, arise in the mind,
arise and then vanish, vanish and then arise, matters of past and
future appearing in the present all the time. We keep investigating
in this way. If we investigate so as to make the mind progress in
tranquillity meditation, Right Mindfulness means using mindfulness
to supervise our mental repetition. From there it turns into
Right Concentration within the heart. This is called building
the Dhamma, building tools for clearing our way, loosening the
things that bind and constrict the heart so that we can make easy
progress, so that we aren't obstructed and blocked by the force of
the things I have mentioned.

Only
the religion, or only the Dhamma, can remove and scatter all the
things that have bound us for countless aeons, clearing them away so
that we can make easy progress. When the mind is centered in
concentration, then confusion and turmoil are far away. The mind is
still and dwells in comfort and ease. When the mind develops
discernment from investigating and contemplating the things that
obstruct it, it makes easy progress. The sharper its discernment,
the wider the path it can clear for itself. Its going is smooth.
Easy. It advances by seeing and knowing the truth, without being
deluded or deceiving itself. Genuine discernment doesn't deceive
itself, but instead makes smooth progress. It unravels all the
things that obstruct it -- our various attachments and
misconstruings -- so as to see them thoroughly, as if it were
slashing away the obstacles in its path so that it can progress step
by step as I've already explained to you.

The
most important basis for its investigation is the body. Bodies
outside or the body inside, investigate them carefully and
thoroughly, for they're all Noble Truths. They're all the path, both
inside and out. Investigate and unravel them so as to see them
clearly -- and while you're investigating them, don't concern
yourself with any other work more than with the work of
investigation. Use discernment to investigate in order really to
know, really to see these things as they are, and uproot the
counterfeit labels and assumptions that say that they're pretty and
beautiful, lovely and attractive. Investigate so as to penetrate to
the truth that there is nothing at all beautiful or attractive
about them. They're thoroughly filthy and repulsive: your body
and the bodies of others, all without exception. They're all filled
with filthy and repulsive things. If you look in line with the
principles of the truth, that's how they are. Discernment
investigates, peering inward so as to see clear through -- from the
skin outside on into the inside, which is putrid with all kinds of
filth -- for the sake of seeing clearly exactly what is pretty, what
is beautiful, what is lovely and attractive. There's nothing of the
sort in any body. There are only the lying defilements that have
planted these notions there.

When we
have really investigated on in, we see that these notions are all
false. The genuine truth is that these bodies aren't pretty or
beautiful. They're nothing but repulsive. When they fall apart, what
are they? When they fall apart, earth is earth -- because earth is
what it already was when it was still in the body. The properties of
water, wind, and fire were already water, wind, and fire when they
were in the body. When the body falls apart, where do these things
ever become gods and Brahmas, heaven and nibbana? They have
to be earth, water, wind, and fire in line with their nature. This
is how discernment investigates and analyzes so as to see clearly.
This is how we use clear-seeing discernment to clear away the things
obstructing and distorting our vision. Now there's no more such
thing as being constricted or blocked. Our discernment, if we use
it, has to be discernment all the day long.

Wherever discernment penetrates, it sees clearly, clears away its
doubts, and lets go, step by step, until it lets go once and for
all from having known thoroughly. Once it has investigated
blatant things so as to know them clearly, where will the mind then
go? Once it has investigated blatant things and known them clearly,
it's as if it has completely uprooted the blatant defilements that
have planted thorns in different objects, such as our own body. So
now where will the defilements go? Will they fly away? They can only
shrink inward to find a hiding place when they are chased inside and
attacked by mindfulness and discernment.

Feelings, labels, thought-formations, and cognizance: These are
simply individual conditions by their nature, but they are under the
control of defilement. Defilement is the basis from which they
spring, so it has to regard itself as being in charge. It uses
labels to make them defilement. It forms thought-formations so as to
make them defilement. It cognizes and takes note so as to make these
things defilement. However many feelings arise, it makes them all
defilement. Defilement can't make things into Dhamma. It has to be
defilement all the day long. This is how it builds itself in its
various branches.

So.
Investigate on in. Slash on in. Feelings of pleasure and pain: They
exist both in the body and in the mind. Feeling isn't defilement. If
we look in line with the principles of nature, it's simply a
reality. The assumption that 'I'm pained' or 'I'm pleased' --
delusion with pain, delusion with pleasure, delusion with feelings
of indifference in the body and mind: These things are
defilement. The assumptions and delusions are defilement. When we
really investigate inward, the various feelings aren't defilement;
these four mental phenomena aren't defilement.

Once
we've spotted our assumptions and construings, they retreat inward.
The feelings that still exist in the body and mind, even though they
aren't yet thoroughly understood, are still greatly lightened. We
begin to gain an inkling of their ways, step by step. We're not
deluded to the point of complete blindness as we were before we
investigated. Whichever aspects of feeling are blatant and
associated with the body, we know clearly. We can let go of bodily
feelings. We can understand them. As for feelings remaining in the
mind, for the most part they're refined feelings of pleasure. We
know and let go of them in the same way when the path gains power.
These feelings of pleasure are like fish in a trap: No matter what,
there's no way they can escape getting cooked. They can't swim down
into large ponds and lakes as they used to. They can only sit
waiting for their dying day. The same holds true for the refined
feeling of pleasure -- which is a conventional reality -- within the
heart. It can only wait for the day it will be disbanded as a
convention when the ultimate ease, which is not a convention, comes
to rule the heart through the complete penetration of mindfulness
and discernment. So investigate on in until you understand, reaching
the point of letting go with no more concerns.

What is
sa˝˝a labeling? Labeling this, labeling that, making
assumptions about this and that: These are all affairs of defilement
using sa˝˝a. When cognizance (vi˝˝ana) takes note, it
too is turned into defilement. So we investigate these things, using
discernment in the same way as when we investigate feelings. We then
understand. When we understand, these things become simply
cognizance taking note, simply sa˝˝a labeling, without
labeling so as to be defilement, without taking note so as to be
defilement. Defilement then retreats further and further inward.

Ultimately, these five issues -- namely, the physical khandha,
our body; the vedana khandha, feelings in the body (as for
feelings in the mind, let's save those for the moment); the sa˝˝a
khandha, the sankhara khandha, and the vi˝˝ana khandha
-- are all clearly known in the heart, with no more doubts. The
defilements gather inward, converge inward. They can't go out
roaming, because they'll get slashed to bits by mindfulness and
discernment. So they have to withdraw inward to find a hiding place.
This, in actuality, is what the investigation is like, and not
otherwise.

In our
investigation as meditators, when discernment reaches any particular
level, we'll know for ourselves, step by step. Both defilement and
discernment: We'll know both sides at the same time. When
discernment is very strong, defilement grows weaker. Mindfulness and
discernment become even more courageous and unflinching. The words
laziness and lethargy, which are affairs of defilement, disappear.
We keep moving in with persistence day and night. This is the way it
is when the path gains strength. As meditators you should take note
of this and practice so as to know it and see it, so as to make it
your own treasure arising in your heart. Your doubts will then be
ended in every way.

We now
take this atomic mindfulness and discernment and shoot it into the
central point of conventional reality, the point that causes living
beings to founder in the wheel of the cycle (vatta) so that
they can't find their way out, don't know the way out, don't know
the ways of birth, don't know who has been born as what, where they
have died, what burdens of suffering and stress they have carried.
Mindfulness and discernment go crashing down into that point until
it is scattered to pieces. And so now how can we not know what it is
that has caused us to take birth and die? There is only defilement
that is the important seed causing us to take birth and die, causing
us to suffer pain and stress. The true Dhamma hasn't caused us to
suffer. It has brought us nothing but pleasure and ease in line with
its levels, in line with the levels of what is noble and good. The
things that give rise to major and minor sufferings are all affairs
of defilement. We can see this clearly. We can know this clearly.
Especially when defilement has been completely scattered from the
heart, it's as if the earth and sky collapse. How can this not send
a tremor through the three levels of the cosmos? -- because this
thing is what has wandered throughout the three levels of the
cosmos. When it has been made to collapse within the heart, what is
the heart like now? How does the outer space of the Dhamma differ
from the outer space of the world? Now we know clearly. The outer
space of this purified mind: Is it annihilation? The outer space of
the world isn't annihilation. If it were annihilation, they wouldn't
call it outer space. It's a nature that exists in line with the
principles of its nature as outer space.

The
outer space of the mind released from all forms of gravitational
pull, i.e., conventional reality: What is it like? Even though we've
never known it before, when we come to know it, we won't have any
doubts. Even though we've never seen it before, when we come to see
it, we won't have any doubts. Even though we've never experienced it
before, when we come to experience it, we won't have any doubts. We
won't have to search for witnesses to confirm it, the way we do with
conventions in general. It's sanditthiko -- immediately
apparent -- and only this fits perfectly with our heart and that
outer space mind.

This is
what we referred to at the beginning when we talked about the outer
space of the world and the outer space of the mind. The outer space
of the mind -- the mind of nibbana -- is like that. Just
where is it annihilated? Who experiences the outer space of the
mind? If it were annihilation, who could experience it? As
for where it will or won't be reborn, we already know that there's
no way for it to be reborn. We know this clearly. We've removed
every defilement or conventional reality that would lead to rebirth.
Conventional reality is the same thing as defilement. All things --
no matter how subtle -- that have been dangers to the heart for such
a long time have been completely destroyed. All that remains is the
pure outer space of the mind: the mind that is pure. You can call it
outer space, you can call it anything at all, because the world has
its conventions, so we have to make differentiations to use in line
with the conventions of the world so as not to conflict.

When we
reach the level of the outer space mind, how does it feel for the
mind to have been coerced, oppressed, and subject to the pull of all
things base and vile, full of stress and great sufferings for aeons
and aeons? We don't have to reflect on how many lifetimes it's been.
We can take the principle of the present as our evidence. Now the
mind is released. We've seen how much suffering there has been and
now we've abandoned it once and for all. We've absolutely destroyed
its seeds, beginning with 'avijja-paccaya sankhara' -- 'With
unawareness as condition there occur mental formations.' All that
remains is 'avijjayatveva asesa-viraga-nirodha' sankhara-nirodho'
-- 'Simply with the disbanding of unawareness, with no remaining
passion, thought-formations disband.' That's the outer space of the
mind.

The
mind released from all gravitational forces: Even though it's still
alive and directing the khandhas, there's nothing to bar its
thoughts, its vision, its knowledge. There's nothing to obstruct it,
nothing to make it worried or relieved, nothing to make it brave,
nothing to make it afraid. It is simply its own nature by itself,
always independent in that way.

For
this reason, knowledge of all truths has to be completely open to
this unobstructed and unoppressed mind. It can know and see. If we
speak of matters related to the body and khandhas, we can
speak in every way without faltering, because there's nothing to
hinder us. Only the defilements are what kept us from seeing what we
saw and from describing the things we should have been able to
describe, because we didn't know, we didn't see. What we knew was
bits and pieces. We didn't know the full truth of these various
things. When this was the case, how could we know clearly? How could
we speak clearly? All we knew was bits and pieces, so when we
spoke, it had to be bits and pieces as well.

But
once we've shed these things, everything is wide open. The mind is
free, vast, and empty, without limits, without bounds. There's
nothing to enclose or obscure it. When we know, we really know the
truth. When we see, we really see the truth. When we speak, we can
speak the truth. You can call the mind brave or not-brave as you
like, because we speak in line with what we experience, what we know
and see, so why can't we speak? We can know, we can see, so why
can't we speak? -- for these things exist as they have from the
beginning. When the Buddha proclaimed the Dhamma to the world, he
took the things that existed and that he saw in line with what he
had known -- everything of every sort -- and proclaimed them to the
world. Think of how broad it was, the knowledge of the Buddha, how
subtle and profound -- because nothing was concealed or mysterious
to him. Everything was completely opened to him. This is why he's
called lokavidu -- one who knows the world clearly -- through
the vastness of his mind that had nothing to enclose or conceal it
at all.

Aloko udapadi: 'Brightness arose.' His mind was bright toward
the truth both by day and by night. This is how the Buddha knew. The
Noble Disciples all knew in the same way, except that his range and
theirs differed in breadth. But as for knowing the truth, it was the
same for them all.

Here
we've described both the benefits and the harm of the things
involved with the mind -- in other words, both the Dhamma and the
defilements -- for you as meditators to listen to and contemplate in
earnestness.

So.
Let's try to develop our minds so as to shoot out beyond this world
of conventional realities to see what it's like. Then we won't have
to ask where the Buddha is, how many Buddhas there have been,
whether the Noble Disciples really exist or how many they are --
because the one truth that we know and see clearly in our hearts
resonates to all the Buddhas, all the Noble Disciples, and all
the Dhamma that exists. We won't have any doubts, because the nature
that knows and exists within us contains them all: all the Buddhas,
the community of Noble Disciples, and all the Dhamma that exists.
It's a nature just right in its every aspect, with nothing for us to
doubt.

This is
the place -- if we speak in terms of place -- where we run out of
doubts about everything of every sort. We oversee the khandhas,
which are simply conventions of the world, just as all the Noble
Disciples do while they are still living. As for the mind, it has
gained release and remains released in that way. As we have said,
even though it remains in the midst of the world of conventions,
this nature is its own nature, and those other things are their own
affairs. Each is a separate reality that doesn't mingle, join, or
have an effect on the others. When we say release from the world,
this is what we mean.

All of
the Dhammas I have mentioned here: When do they exist? And when
don't they exist? The Dhamma exists at all times and in all places.
It's akaliko, timeless. So I ask that you penetrate into the
Dhamma of these four Noble Truths. You'll be right on target with
the results of the Buddha and the Noble Disciples; and there's no
doubt but that you'll be right on target with the results of the
Buddha's and the Noble Disciples' work. Their workplace is in these
four Noble Truths, and the results that come from the work are the
paths, fruitions, and nibbana. They arise right here. They're
located right here. When we have practiced and reached them fully
and completely, there will be nothing for us to question.

This is
why there won't be any reason to doubt the time of the Buddha as
compared to our own time, as to whether the Dhamma of the Buddha was
different because the defilements are now different from what they
were then. The defilements then and now are all of the same sort.
The Dhamma is all of the same sort. If we cure defilement in the
same way, we're bound to gain release in the same way. There is no
other way to gain release, no matter what the day and age. There is
only this one way: following the way of the path, beginning with
virtue, concentration, and discernment, to eliminate defilement, the
cause of stress -- in particular, craving for sensuality, craving
for becoming, and craving for no becoming -- completely from the
heart. As for nirodha, the cessation of stress: When
defilement is disbanded, from where will any more suffering or
stress arise? When defilement and stress are disbanded for good,
that's the outer space of the mind. As for the Noble Truths, they're
activities, or our workplace. The result that comes from these four
Noble Truths is something else entirely. As I've always been telling
you: What is it that knows that stress and the cause of stress
disband? When the path has performed its duties to the full and has
completely wiped out the cause of stress, then nirodha -- the
cessation of stress -- appears in full measure, after which it
disbands as well, because it too is a conventional reality. As for
the one who knows that the cause of stress has disbanded by being
eradicated through the path so as to give rise to the cessation of
stress: The one who knows this is the pure one -- the outer
space of the mind -- and that's the end of the matter.

So
investigate carefully. Listen carefully when you listen to the
Dhamma while putting it to use. When we work, we can't let go of our
tools. For instance, if we're working with an ax, the ax has to be
at hand. If we're working with a knife, the knife has to be at hand.
If we're working with a chisel, the chisel has to be at hand. But
when we've finished our work, we let go of our chisel, we let go of
our various tools. So here the virtue, concentration, and
discernment that are called the path are our tools in the work of
eliminating defilement. We have to keep them right at hand while we
are working. When we have eliminated defilement until it's
completely defeated and nothing is left, these tools are phenomena
that let go of themselves of their own accord, without our having to
force them.

As I've
always been saying, the teachings on inconstancy, stress, and
not-self are our path. We can't let go of them. We have to
investigate things with mindfulness and discernment so as to see
them clearly in line with the principles of inconstancy, stress, and
not-self. Once we're ready and we've run the full course, we let go
of these principles in line with the truth. We don't call anything
not-self. Each thing is a separate reality, with no quarreling. This
is the Dhamma: It has many stages, many levels, so those who listen
have to make distinctions, because in this talk I've discussed many
stages on many levels, back and forth, so as to make things plain
for those listening.

To
summarize: The marketplace of the paths, fruitions, and nibbana
is located in the Noble Truths. It isn't located anywhere else. So,
whatever else, make sure that you attain them. Accelerate your
efforts to the full extent of your ability. Use all the mindfulness
and discernment you have to contemplate and investigate things in
order to see them clearly. See what it's like to set them spinning
as a wheel of Dhamma, which the Buddha has described as
super-mindfulness and super-discernment. When we start out
practicing, how can they immediately become super-mindfulness and
super-discernment? When children are born, they don't immediately
become adults. They have to be nourished and guarded and cared for.
Think of how much it takes, how much it costs, for each child to
become an adult as we all have. Mindfulness and discernment need to
be nourished and guarded in just the same way. When we nourish and
guard them unceasingly, unflaggingly, they grow bold and capable
until they become super-mindfulness and super-discernment. Then they
attack the defilements -- no matter what the sort -- until the
defilements are slashed to pieces with nothing left, so that we
attain purity -- release and nibbana -- within our own heart,
which will then have the highest value. Whether or not anyone else
confers titles on it, we ourselves don't confer titles. We've
reached sufficiency, so what is there to gain by conferring titles?
All that's left is the gentleness and tenderness of purity, blended
into one with benevolence. The entire mind is filled with
benevolence.

The
Buddha taught the beings of the world through his benevolence. His
mind was completely gentle toward every living being in the three
levels of the cosmos. He didn't exalt or demean any of them at all.
'Sabbe satta' -- 'May all living beings who are fellows in
suffering, birth, aging, illness, and death' -- 'avera hontu'
-- 'be free from enmity'... all the way to 'sukhi attanam
pariharantu' -- 'may they maintain themselves with ease.' [5]
That was his benevolence. He gave equality to all living beings. He
didn't lean, because his mind didn't have anything to lean. It
didn't have any defilements infiltrating it that could make it lean.
The things leaning this way and that are all affairs of defilement.
When there's pure Dhamma, the mind keeps its balance with pure
fairness, so there's no leaning. It's a principle of nature that
stays as it is.

So I
ask that you all take this and earnestly put it into practice. Gain
release so as to see it clearly in your heart. How do they compare:
this heart as it's currently coerced and oppressed, and the heart
when it has attained release from coercion and oppression. How do
they differ in value? Come to see this clearly in your own heart.
You won't see it anywhere else. Sanditthiko: It's immediately
apparent within the person who practices.

The
search for inner wealth is much the same as the search for outer
wealth. In searching for outer wealth, intelligent people have no
problems: They can find it easily. But stupid people have lots of
difficulties. Look around and you'll see that poor people are many,
while rich people are few. This shows that stupid people are many,
while intelligent people are few, which is why there are more poor
people than rich people.

In the
search for inner wealth -- virtue and goodness -- the same holds
true: It depends more on ingenuity than on any other factor. If
we're stupid, then even if we sit right at the hem of the Buddha's
robe or the robe of one of his Noble Disciples, the only result
we'll get will be our own stupidity. To gain ingenuity or virtue
from the Buddha or his Noble Disciples is very difficult for a
stupid person, because inner wealth depends on ingenuity and
intelligence. If we have no ingenuity, we won't be able to find any
inner wealth to provide happiness and ease for the heart.

External wealth is something we're all familiar with. Money,
material goods, living things, and things without life: All of these
things are counted as wealth. They are said to belong to whoever has
rights over them. The same holds true with the virtue and goodness
we call merit. If unintelligent people search for merit and try to
develop virtue and goodness like the people around them, the results
will depend on their ingenuity and stupidity. If they have little
ingenuity, they'll gain little merit.

As for
those of us who have ordained in the Buddha's religion, our aim is
to develop ourselves so as to gain release from suffering and
stress, just like a person who aims single-mindedly at being a
millionaire.

People
in the world have basically three sorts of attitudes. The first
sort: Some people are born in the midst of poverty and deprivation
because their parents are ignorant, with no wealth at their
disposal. They make their living by begging. When they wake up in
the morning, they go begging from house to house, street to street,
sometimes getting enough to eat, sometimes not. Their children fall
into the same 'kamma current'. That's the kind of potential
they've developed, so they have to be born to impoverished parents
of that sort. They just don't have it in them to think of being
millionaires like those in the world of the wealthy. The parents to
whom they are born act as a mould, so they are lazy and ignorant
like their parents. They live in suffering with their parents and go
out begging with them, sometimes eating their fill, sometimes not.

But
this is still better than other sorts of people. Some parents are
not only poor, but also earn their living by thievery and robbery.
Whatever they get to feed their children, they tell their children
what it is and where it came from. The children get this sort of
education from their parents and grow up nourished by impure things
-- things gained through dishonesty, thievery, and robbery -- so
when they grow up, they don't have to think of looking for work or
for any education at the age when they should be looking for
learning, because they've already received their education from
their parents: education in stealing, cheating, thievery and
robbery, laziness and crookedness. This is because their parents
have acted as blackboards covered with writing: their actions and
the manners of their every movement. Every child born to them
receives training in how to act, to speak, and to think. Everything
is thus an education from the parents, because the writing and
teachings are all there on the blackboard of the parents. Laziness,
dishonesty, deceit, thievery: Every branch of evil is there in the
writing on the blackboard. The children learn to read, to draw, to
write, all from their parents, and fill themselves with the sort of
knowledge that has the world up in flames. As they begin to grow up,
they take over their parents' duties by pilfering this and that,
until they gradually become hoodlums, creating trouble for society
at large. This is one of the major fires burning away at society
without stop. The reasons that people can be so destructive on a
large scale like this can come either from their parents, from their
own innate character, or from associating with evil, dishonest
people. This is the sort of attitude found in people of one sort.

The
second sort of people have the attitude that even though they won't
be millionaires, they will still have enough to eat and to use like
people in general, and that they will be good citizens like the rest
of society so that they can maintain a decent reputation. People of
this sort are relatively hard-working and rarely lazy. They have
enough possessions to get by on a level with the general run of good
citizens. When they have children, the children take their parents
as examples, as writing on the blackboard from which they learn
their work, their behavior, and all their manners. Once they gain
this knowledge from their parents, they put it to use and become
good citizens themselves, with enough wealth to get by without
hardships, able to keep up with the world so that they don't lose
face or cause their families any shame. They can relate to the rest
of society with confidence and without being a disgrace to their
relatives or to society in general. They behave in line with their
ideals until they become good citizens with enough wealth to keep
themselves out of poverty. These are the attitudes of the second
sort of people.

The
third sort of people have attitudes that differ from those of the
first two sorts in that they're determined, no matter what, to
possess more wealth than anyone else in the world. They are headed
in this direction from the very beginning because they have earned
the opportunity to be born in families rich in virtue and material
wealth. They learn ingenuity and industriousness from their parents,
because their parents work hard at commerce and devote themselves
fully to all their business activities. Whatever the parents do, the
children will have to see. Whatever the parents say with regard to
their work inside or outside the home, near or far, the children --
who are students by nature -- will have to listen and take it to
heart, because the children are not only students, but also their
parents' closest and most trusted helpers. The parents can't
overlook them. Eventually they become the supervisors of the
parents' workers inside and outside the home and in all the
businesses set up by their parents. In all of the activities for
which the parents are responsible, the children will have to be
students and workers, at the same time keeping an eye and an ear out
to observe and contemplate what is going on around them. All
activities, whether in the area of the world, such as commerce, or
in the area of the Dhamma -- such as maintaining the precepts,
chanting, and meditating -- are things the children will have to
study and pick up from their parents.

Thus
parents shouldn't be complacent in their good and bad activities,
acting as they like and thinking that the children won't be able to
pick things up from them. This sort of attitude is not at all
fitting, because the way people treat and mistreat the religion and
the nation's institutions comes from what they learn as children.
Don't think that it comes from anywhere else, for no one has ever
put old people in school.

We
should thus realize that children begin learning the principles of
nature step by step from the day they are born until their parents
send them for formal schooling. The principles of nature are
everywhere, so that anyone who is interested -- child or adult --
can study them at any time, unlike formal studies and book learning,
which come into being at some times and change or disappear at
others. For this reason, parents are the most influential mould for
their children in the way they look after them, give them love and
affection, and provide their education, both in the principles of
nature and in the basic subjects that the children should pick up
from them. This is because all children come ready to learn from the
adults and the other children around them. Whether they will be good
children or bad depends on the knowledge they pick up from around
them. When this is stored up in their hearts, it will exert pressure
on their behavior, making it good or bad, as we see all around us.
This comes mainly from what they learn of the principles of nature,
which are rarely taught in school, but which people pick up more
quickly than anything that school-teachers teach.

Thus
parents and teachers should give special attention to every child
for whom they are responsible. Even when parents put their children
to work, helping with the buying and selling at home, the children
are learning the livelihood of buying and selling from their parents
-- picking up, along the way, their parents' strong and weak points.
We can see this from the way children pick up the parents' religion.
However good or bad, right or wrong the religion may be -- even if
it's worshipping spirits -- the children are bound to pick up their
parents' beliefs and practices. If the parents cherish moral virtue,
the children will follow their example, cherishing moral virtue and
following the practices of their parents.

This
third sort of person is thus very industrious and hard-working, and
so reaps better and more outstanding results than the other two
sorts.

When we
classify people in this way, we can see that people of the first
sort are the laziest and most ignorant. At the same time, they make
themselves disreputable and objects of the scorn of good people in
general. People of the second sort are fairly hard-working and
fairly well-off, while those of the third sort are determined to be
wealthier than the rest of the world and at the same time are very
hard-working because, since they have set their sights high, they
can't just sit around doing nothing. They are very persevering and
very persistent in their work, going all out to find ways to earn
wealth, devoting themselves to their efforts and to being ingenious,
circumspect, and uncomplacent in all their activities. People of
this sort, even if they don't become millionaires, are important and
deserve to be set up as good examples for the people of the nation
at large.

We
monks fall into the same three sorts. The first sort includes those
who are ordained only in name, only as a ceremony, who don't aim for
the Dhamma, for reasonability, or for what's good or right. They aim
simply at living an easy life because they don't have to work hard
like lay people. Once ordained, they become very lazy and very
well-known for quarreling with their fellow monks. Instead of
gaining merit from being ordained, as most people might think, they
end up filling themselves and those around them with suffering and
evil.

The
second sort of monk aims at what is reasonable. If he can manage to
gain release from suffering, that's what he wants. He believes that
there is merit and so he wants it. He believes that there is evil,
so he wants really to understand good and evil. He is fairly
hard-working and intelligent. He follows the teachings of the Dhamma
and Vinaya well and so doesn't offend his fellow monks. He is
interested in studying and diligently practicing the threefold
training of virtue, concentration, and discernment. He takes
instruction easily, has faith in the principles of the Dhamma and
Vinaya, is intent on his duties, and believes in what is reasonable.

The
third sort of monk becomes ordained out of a true sense of faith and
conviction. Even if he may not have had much of an education from
any teachers in the beginning, once he has become ordained and gains
instruction from his teachers or from the texts that give a variety
of reasons showing how to act so as to head toward evil and how to
strive so as to head toward the good, he immediately takes it as a
lesson for training himself. The more he studies from his teachers,
the stronger his faith and conviction grow, to the point where he
develops a firm, single-minded determination to gain release from
suffering and stress. Whether sitting, standing, walking, or lying
down, he doesn't flag in his determination. He is always firmly
intent on gaining release from suffering and stress. He's very
persistent and hard-working. Whatever he does, he does with his full
heart, aiming at reason, aiming at the Dhamma.

This
third sort of monk is the uncomplacent sort. He observes the
precepts for the sake of real purity and observes them with great
care. He is uncomplacent both in training his mind in concentration
and in giving rise to discernment. He is intent on training the
basic mindfulness and discernment he already has as an ordinary
run-of-the-mill person, so that they become more and more capable,
step by step, making them the sort of mindfulness and discernment
that can keep abreast of his every action until they become
super-mindfulness and super-discernment, capable of shedding all
defilements and mental effluents from the heart. He thus becomes one
of the amazing people of the religion, earning the homage and
respect of people at large.

In the
area of the world there are three sorts of people, and in the area
of the Dhamma there are three sorts of monks. Which of the three are
we going to choose to be? When we come right down to it, each of
these three types refers to each of us, because we can make
ourselves into any of them, making them appear within us -- because
these three types are simply for the purpose of comparison. When we
refer them to ourselves, we can be any of the three. We can be the
type who makes himself vile and lazy, with no interest in the
practice of the Dhamma, with no value at all; or we can make
ourselves into the second or third sort. It all depends on how our
likes and desires will affect our attitudes in our thoughts, words,
and deeds. Whichever type we want to be, we should adapt our
thoughts, words, and deeds to fit the type. The affairs of that sort
of person will then become our own affairs, because none of these
sorts lies beyond us. We can change our behavior to fit in with any
of the three. If we are going to be the third sort of person, then
no matter what, we are sure to release ourselves from suffering and
stress someday in the future or in this very lifetime.

So be
uncomplacent in all your activities, mindful of your efforts and
actions, and discerning with regard to your affairs at all times.
Don't let the activities of your thoughts, words, and deeds go
straying down the wrong path. Try to train your mindfulness and
discernment to stay involved with your activities at all times. To
safeguard these sorts of things isn't as difficult as safeguarding
external wealth, because inner wealth stays with us, which makes it
possible to safeguard it.

As a
monk, you have only one duty. When sitting, be aware that you're
sitting. Whatever issue you think about, know that you're thinking.
Don't assume that any issue comes from anywhere other than from a
lapse of mindfulness in your own heart, which makes wrong issues --
from minor ones to major ones -- start spreading to your own
detriment. All of this comes from your own lack of watchfulness and
restraint. It doesn't come from anything else. If you want to gain
release from suffering and stress in this lifetime, then see the
dangers of your own errors, your complacency, and your lack of
mindfulness. See them as your enemies. If, in your eyes, the
currents of the mind that spin to give rise to the cravings and
mental effluents termed the origin of stress are something good,
then you're sure to go under. Be quick to shed these things
immediately. Don't let them lie fermenting in your heart.

Those
who see danger in the round of rebirth must see the danger as lying
in the accumulation of defilement. Your duties in the practice are
like the fence and walls of a house that protect you stage by stage
from danger. In performing your duties that constitute the effort of
the practice, you have to keep your mindfulness with those duties
and not let it lapse. Nourish your mindfulness and discernment so
that they are always circumspect in all your affairs. Don't let them
flow away on the habitual urges of the heart. You can then be sure
that the affairs of the mind will not in any way lie beyond the
power of your effort and control.

So I
ask that each of you be mindful -- and don't let your mindfulness
conjecture ahead or behind with thoughts of the past or future.
Always keep it aware of your activities, and you will be able to go
beyond this mass of suffering and stress. Even if your mind hasn't
yet attained stillness, it will begin to be still through the power
of mindfulness. There is no need to doubt this, for the mind can't
lie beyond the power of mindfulness and discernment coupled with
persistent effort.

Of the
famous meditation masters of our present era, Ven. Acariya Mun is
the one I admire and respect the most. In my opinion, he is the most
outstanding teacher of our day and age. Living and studying with
him, I never saw him act in any way at odds with the Dhamma and
Vinaya. His behavior was in such harmony with the Dhamma and Vinaya
that it was never a cause for doubt among those who studied with
him. From my experience in living with him, I'd say that he was
right in line with the path of those who practice rightly,
straightly, methodically, and nobly. He never strayed from this path
at all.

When he
would tell us about the beginning stages of his practice, he'd talk
about how he had tried to develop mindfulness. He liked to live
alone. If others were living with him, they would get in the way of
his meditation. If he could get away on his own, he'd find that
mindfulness and discernment were coupled with his efforts at all
times. He would stay with his efforts both day and night. It was as
if his hand was never free from its work. Mindfulness converged with
his mind so that they were never willing to leave their endeavors.

He had
resolved never to return to this world of continual death and
rebirth. No matter what, he would have to gain release from
suffering and stress in this lifetime and never ask to be reborn
again. Even being born into this present lifetime had him disgusted
enough, but when he also saw the birth, aging, illness, and death of
human beings and living beings in general, day and night, together
with the blatant sufferings caused by the oppression and cruelties
of the strong over the weak, it made him feel even greater dismay,
which is why he asked not to be reborn ever again. The way he asked
not to be reborn was to take the effort of the practice as the
witness within his heart. Wherever he lived, he asked to live
with the effort of the practice. He didn't want anything else
that would delay his release from suffering. This is what he would
tell us when the opportunity arose.

Whatever knowledge or understanding he had gained in the various
places he had lived, he wouldn't keep from us. When he lived there,
his mind was like that; when he lived here, his mind was like this.
He even told us about the time his mind realized the land of its
hopes.

The way
each person's mind progresses is purely an individual matter. It's
not something we can imitate from one another. Even the various
realizations we have and the means of expression we use in teaching
ourselves, our fellow meditators, and people in general, have to be
a matter of our own individual wealth, in line with our habits and
capabilities, just as a millionaire with lots of wealth uses his own
millionaire's wealth, while a poor person with little wealth makes
use of his own wealth. Each person, no matter how rich or
poor, makes use of the wealth he or she has been able to accumulate.

In the
area of habits and capabilities, how much we may possess depends
entirely on ourselves. These aren't things we can borrow from one
another. We have to depend on the capabilities we develop from
within. This is why our habits, manners, and conversation, our
knowledge and intelligence, our shallowness and depth differ from
person to person in line with our capabilities. Even though I
studied with Ven. Acariya Mun for a long time, I can't guarantee
that I could take his Dhamma as my own and teach it to others.
All I can say is that I depend on however much my own knowledge and
capabilities may be, in line with my own strengths, which is just
right for me and doesn't overstep the bounds of what is fitting for
me.

As for
Ven. Acariya Mun, he was very astute at teaching. For example, he
wouldn't talk about the major points. He'd talk only about how to
get there. As soon as he'd get to the major points, he'd detour
around them and reappear further on ahead. This is the way it would
be every time. He was never willing to open up about the major
points. At first I didn't understand what his intentions were in
acting this way, and it was only later that I understood. Whether
I'm right or wrong, I have to ask your forgiveness, for he was very
astute, in keeping with the fact that he had taught so many
students.

There
were two reasons why he wouldn't open up about the major points. One
is that those who weren't really intent on the Dhamma would take his
teachings as a shield, claiming them to be their own as a way of
advertising themselves and making a living. The other reason is that
the Dhamma that was a principle of nature he had known and might
describe was not something that could be conjectured about in
advance. Once those who were strongly intent on the Dhamma
reached those points in their investigation, if they had heard him
describe those points beforehand, would be sure to have subtle
assumptions or presuppositions infiltrating their minds at that
moment, and so they would assume that they understood that level of
Dhamma when actually those assumptions would be a cause for
self-delusion without their even realizing it.

As far
as these two considerations are concerned, I must admit that I'm
very foolish because of my good intentions toward those who come
intent on studying with me. I'm not the least bit secretive. I've
revealed everything all along, without holding anything back, not
even the things that should be held back. I've been open to the full
extent of my ability, which has turned into a kind of foolishness
without my being aware of it. This has caused those who are really
intent on studying with me to misunderstand, latching onto these
things as assumptions that turn into their enemies, concealing the
true Dhamma, all because I may lack some circumspection with regard
to this second consideration.

Ven.
Acariya Mun was very astute both in external and in internal
matters. On the external level, he wouldn't be willing to disclose
things too readily. Sometimes, after listening to him, you'd have to
take two or three days to figure out what he meant. This, at least,
was the way things were for me. Whether or not this was the way they
were for my fellow students, I never had the chance to find out. But
as for me, I'd use all my strength to ponder anything he might say
that seemed to suggest an approach to the practice, and sometimes
after three days of pondering the riddle of his words I still
couldn't make heads or tails of it. I'd have to go and tell him,
'What you said the other day: I've been pondering it for three days
and still can't understand what you meant. I don't know where to
grab hold of it so that I can put it to use, or how much meaning
your words had.'

He'd
smile a bit and say, 'Oh? So there's someone actually pondering what
I say?'

So I'd
answer, 'I'm pondering, but pondering out of stupidity, not with any
intelligence.'

He'd
then respond a little by saying, 'We all have to start out by being
stupid. No one has ever brought intelligence or wealth along at
birth. Only after we set our mind on learning and pondering things
persistently can we become intelligent and astute to the point where
we can gain wealth and status, and can have other people depend on
us. The same holds true with the Dhamma. No one has ever been a
millionaire in the Dhamma or an arahant at birth.'

That's
all he would say. He wouldn't disclose what the right way would be
to interpret the teaching that had preoccupied me for two or three
days running. It was only later that I realized why he wouldn't
disclose this. If he had disclosed it, he would have been
encouraging my stupidity. If we get used simply to having things
handed to us ready-made from other people, without producing
anything with our own intelligence, then when the time comes where
we're in a tight spot and can't depend on anything ready-made from
other people, we're sure to go under if we can't think of a way to
help ourselves. This is probably what he was thinking, which is why
he wouldn't solve this sort of problem when I'd ask him.

Studying with him wasn't simply a matter of studying teachings about
the Dhamma. You had to adapt and accustom yourself to the practices
he followed until they were firmly impressed in your own thoughts,
words, and deeds. Living with him a long time was the way to observe
his habits, practices, virtues, and understanding, bit by bit, day
by day, until they were solid within you. There was a lot of safety
in living with him. By and large, people who studied with him have
received a great deal of trust and respect, because he himself was
all Dhamma. Those who lived with him were bound to pick up that
Dhamma in line with their abilities. At the same time, staying with
him made you accustomed to being watchful and restrained. If you
left him, and were intent on the Dhamma, you'd be able to take care
of yourself using the various approaches you had gained from him.

When
you'd stay with him, it was as if the paths, fruitions, and
nibbana were right within reach. Everything you did was solid
and got results step by step. But when you left him, it wouldn't be
that way at all. It would turn into the other side of the world: If
the mind didn't yet have a firm basis, that's the way it would
usually be. But if the mind had a firm basis -- in other words, if
it had concentration and discernment looking after it -- then you
could benefit from living anywhere. If any doubts arose that you
couldn't handle yourself, you'd have to go running back to him for
advice. Once he'd suggest a solution, the problem would usually
disappear in an instant, as if he had cut it away for you. For me,
at least, that's the way it would be. Sometimes I would have left
him for only five or six days when a problem started bothering me,
and I couldn't stand to wait another two or three days. If I
couldn't solve this sort of problem the moment it arose, then the
next morning I'd have to head right back to him, because some of
these problems could be very critical. Once they arose, and I
couldn't solve them myself, I'd have to hurry back to him for
advice. But other problems aren't especially critical. Even when
they arise, you can wait. Problems of this sort are like diseases.
When some diseases arise, there's no need to hurry for a doctor. But
with other diseases, if we can't get the doctor to come, we have to
go to the doctor ourselves. Otherwise our life will be in danger.

When
these critical sorts of problems arise, if we can't handle them
ourselves, we have to hurry to find a teacher. We can't just
leave them alone, hoping that they'll go away on their own. The
results that can come from these problems that we don't take to our
teachers to solve: At the very least, we can become disoriented,
deluded, or unbalanced; at worst, we can go crazy. When they say
that a person's meditation 'crashes,' it usually comes from this
sort of problem that he or she doesn't know how to solve -- isn't
willing to solve -- and simply lets fester until one of these two
sorts of results appear. I myself have had these sorts of problems
with my mind, which is why I'm telling you about them so that you
can know how to deal with them.

The day
Ven. Acariya Mun died, I was filled with a strong sense of despair
from the feeling that I had lost a mainstay for my heart, because at
the time there was still a lot of unsettled business in my heart,
and it was the sort of knowledge that wasn't willing to submit
easily to anyone's approaches if they weren't right on target -- the
way Ven. Acariya Mun had been, and that had given results -- with
the spots where I was stuck and that I was pondering. At the same
time, it was a period in which I was accelerating my efforts at full
speed. So when Ven. Acariya Mun died, I couldn't stand staying with
my fellow students. My only thought was that I wanted to live alone.
So I tried to find a place where I could stay by myself. I was
determined that I would stay alone until every sort of problem in my
heart had been completely resolved. Only then would I stay with
others and accept students as the occasion arose.

After
Ven. Acariya Mun's death, I went to bow down at his feet and then
sat there reflecting with dismay for almost two hours, my tears
flowing into a pool at his feet. At the same time, I was pondering
in my heart the Dhamma and the teachings he had been so kind to give
me during the eight years I had lived with him. Living together for
such a long time as this, even a husband and wife or parents and
children who love one another deeply are bound to have some problems
or resentments from time to time. But between Ven. Acariya Mun and
the students who had come to depend on his sheltering influence for
such a long time, there had never been any issues at all. The longer
I had stayed with him, the more I had felt an unlimited love and
respect for him. And now he had left me and all my well-intentioned
fellow students. Anicca vata sankhara: Formations -- how
inconstant they are! His body lay still, looking noble and more
precious than my life, which I would have readily given up for his
sake out of my love for him. My body was also still as I sat there,
but my mind was in agitation from a sense of despair and my loss of
his sheltering influence. Both bodies were subject to the same
principle of the Dhamma -- inconstancy -- and followed the teaching
that says, 'uppajjitva nirujjhanti': Having been born, they
are bound to die. There's no other way it could be.

But as
for Ven. Acariya Mun, he had taken a path different from that of
conventional reality, in line with the teaching, 'tesam vupasamo
sukho': In their stilling is ease. He had died in this lifetime,
lying still for just this brief span of time so that his students
could reflect with resignation on the Dhamma, but from now on he
would never be reborn to be a source for his students' tears again.
His mind had now separated from becoming and birth in the same way
that a rock split into two pieces can never be truly rejoined.

So I
sat there, reflecting with despair. The problems in my heart that I
had once unburdened with him: With whom would I unburden them now?
There was no longer anyone who could unburden and erase my problems
the way he had. I was left to fend for myself. It was as if he had
been a doctor who had cured my illnesses countless times and who was
the one person with whom I had entrusted my life -- and now the
doctor who had given me life was gone. I'd have to become a beast of
the forest, for I had no more medicine to treat my inner diseases.

While I
was sitting there, reminiscing sadly about him with love, respect,
and despair, I came to a number of realizations. How had he taught
me while he was still alive? Those were the points I'd have to take
as my teachers. What was the point he had stressed repeatedly?
'Don't ever stray from your foundation, namely "what knows" within
the heart. Whenever the mind comes to any unusual knowledge or
realizations that could become detrimental, if you aren't able to
investigate your way past that sort of knowledge, then turn the mind
back within itself and, no matter what, no damage will be done.'
That was what he had taught, so I took hold of that point and
continued to apply it in my own practice to the full extent of my
ability.

To be a
senior monk comes from being a junior monk, as we see all around us
and will all experience. We all meet with difficulties, whether
we're junior or senior. This is the path we all must take. We must
follow the path of difficulty that is the path toward progress, both
in the area of the world and in the area of the Dhamma. No one has
ever become a millionaire by being lazy or by lying around doing
nothing. To be a millionaire has to come from being persevering,
which in turn has to take the path of difficulty -- difficulty for
the sake of our proper aims. This is the path wealthy and astute
people always follow.

Even in
the area of the Dhamma, we should realize that difficulty is the
path of sages on every level, beginning with the Buddha himself. The
Dhamma affirms this: Dukkhassanantaram sukham -- people gain
ease by following the path of difficulty. As for the path to
suffering, sukhassanantaram dukkham -- people gain
difficulties by following the path of ease. Whoever is diligent and
doesn't regard difficulty as an obstacle, whoever explores without
ceasing the conditions of nature all around him, will become that
third sort of person: the sort who doesn't ask to be reborn in this
world, the sort who tesam vupasamo sukho -- eradicates the
seeds for the rebirth of any sort of formation, experiencing an ease
undisturbed by worldly baits, an ease that is genuinely satisfying.

So. I
ask that all of you as meditators keep these three sorts of people
in mind and choose for yourselves which of the three is the most
outstanding within you right now -- because we can all make
ourselves outstanding, with no need to fear that it will kill us.
The effort to gain release from suffering and stress in the Lord
Buddha's footsteps isn't an executioner waiting to behead the person
who strives in the right direction. Be brave in freeing yourself
from your bonds and entanglements. The stress and difficulties that
come as a shadow of the khandhas are things that everyone has
to bear as a burden. We can't lie to one another about this. Each
person has to suffer from worries and stress because of his or her
own khandhas. Know that the entire world has to suffer in the
same way you do with the khandhas you are overseeing right
now.

Don't
let yourself be content to cycle through birth, aging, illness, and
death. Be uncomplacent at all times. You shouldn't have any
doubts about birth, because the Buddha has already told us that
birth and death are out-and-out suffering. Don't let yourself wonder
if they are flowers or sweets or any sort of food you can eat to
your satisfaction. Actually, they are nothing but poison. They are
things that have deceived us all in our stupidity to be born and to
die in heaps in this world of suffering and stress. If we die in a
state of humanity, there's some hope for us because of the openings
for rebirth we have made for ourselves through the power of our good
deeds. But there are not just a few people out there who are foolish
and deluded, and who thus have no way of knowing what sorts of
openings for rebirth their kamma will lead them to.

So for
this reason, see the danger in repeated birth and death that can
give no guarantees as to the state in which you'll take birth and
die. If it's a human state, as we see and are at present, you can
breathe easily to some extent, but there's always the fear that
you'll slip away to be reborn as a common animal for people to kill
or beat until you're all battered and bruised. Now that's
really something to worry about. If you die, you die; if you
survive, you live and breathe in fear and trembling, dreading death
with every moment. How many animals are dragged into the
slaughter-houses every day? This is something we don't have to
explain in detail. It's simply one example I mention to remind you
of the sufferings of the living beings of the world. And where is
there any shelter that can give a sure sense of security to the
heart of each person overseeing his or her heap of life?

As
meditators we should calculate the profits and losses, the benefits
and drawbacks that come from the khandhas in each 24 hour
period of day and night. The discontent we feel from being
constantly worried: Isn't it caused by the khandhas? What
makes us burdened and worried? We sit, stand, walk, and lie down for
the sake of the khandhas. We eat for the sake of the
khandhas.Our every movement is simply for the sake of the
khandhas. If we don't do these things, the khandhas will
have to break apart under the stress of suffering. All we can do is
relieve things a little bit. When they can no longer take it, the
khandhas will break apart.

bhara
have pa˝cakkhandha:
The five khandhas are really a heavy burden.

Even
though the earth, rocks, and mountains may be heavy, they stay to
themselves. They've never weighed us down or oppressed us with
difficulties. Only these five khandhas have burdened and
oppressed us with difficulties with their every movement. Right from
the day the khandhas begin to form, we have to be troubled
with scurrying around for their sake. They wield tremendous power,
making the entire world bend under their sway until the day they
fall apart. We could say that we are slaves to the khandhas
from the day we're born to the day we die. In short, what it all
comes down to is that the source of all worries, the source of all
issues lies in the khandhas. They are the supreme commanders,
making us see things in line with their wants. This being the case,
how can anything wonderful come from them? Even the khandhas
we will take on as a burden in our next birth will be the same sort
of taking-birth-and-dying khandhas, lording it over us and
making us suffer all over again.

So
investigate these things until you can see them clearly with
discernment. Of all the countless lifetimes you may have been
through over the aeons, take this present lifetime before you as
your evidence in reviewing them all. Those who aren't complacent
will come to know that khandhas in the past and khandhas
that will appear in the future all have the same characteristics as
the khandhas that exist with us in the present. All I ask is
that you force your mind to stay in the frame of the three
characteristics (ti-lakkhana), which are present throughout
the body and mind at all times. No matter how wild and resistant the
mind may be, it can't withstand the strength of mindfulness and
discernment backed up by persistent effort.

As long
as mindfulness and discernment aren't yet agile, you have to force
them; but as soon as they gain enough strength to stand on their
own, they'll be like a fire and its light that always appear
together. Once mindfulness and discernment have been trained to be
authoritative, then wherever you are, you're mindful and discerning.
It's not the case that you will always have to force them. They're
like a child: When it's first born, it doesn't have the strength and
intelligence to care for itself, so its parents have to take on the
duty of caring for it in every way until it matures and becomes able
to survive on its own. The parents who used to look after it are
then no longer burdened with that duty. The same holds true with
mindfulness and discernment. They gain strength step by step from
being trained without ceasing, without letting them slide. They
develop day by day until they become super-mindfulness and
super-discernment at the stage where they perform their duties
automatically. Then every sort of thing that used to be an enemy of
the heart will be slain by super-mindfulness and super-discernment
until nothing remains. All that remains is a heart entirely 'buddho,''Dhammo' will become a marvel at that very same moment
through the power of super-mindfulness and super-discernment.

So I
ask that all of you as meditators make the effort. See the burden of
birth, aging, illness, and death that lies ahead of you as being at
least equal to the burden of birth, aging, illness, and death
present in living beings and formations all around you. It may even
be more -- who knows how much more? For this reason, you should make
sure that you gain release from it in this lifetime in a way clear
to your own heart. Then wherever you live, you'll be at your ease
-- with no need to bother with any more problems of birth or death
anywhere at all -- simply aware of this heart that is pure.

I ask
that you all contemplate this and strive with bravery in the
threefold training of virtue, concentration, and discernment. The
goal you set for yourself in that third sort of person will one day
be you. There's no need to doubt this.

...When
we investigate, we have to investigate over and over, time and time
again, many, many times until we understand and are fully sure. The
mind will then let go of its own accord. There's no way we can try
to force it to let go as long as we haven't investigated enough.
It's like eating: If we haven't reached the point where we're full,
we're not full. There's no way we can try to make ourselves full
with just one or two spoonfuls. We have to keep on eating, and then
when we're full we stop of our own accord. We've had enough.

The
same holds true with investigating. When we reach the stage where we
fully know, we let go of our own accord: all our attachments to the
body, feelings, labels, thought-formations, cognizance, step by step
until we finally penetrate with our discernment into the mind itself
-- the genuine revolving wheel, the revolving mind -- until it is
smashed to pieces with nothing left. That's the point --
that's the point where we end our problems in fighting with
defilement. That's where they end -- and our desire to go to
nibbana ends right there as well.

The
desire to go to nibbana is part of the path. It's not a
craving. The desire to gain release from suffering and stress is
part of the path. It's not a craving. Desire has two sorts: desire
in the area of the world and desire in the area of the Dhamma.
Desire in the area of the world is craving. Desire in the area of
the Dhamma is part of the path. The desire to gain release from
suffering, to go to nibbana, strengthens the Dhamma within
us. Effort is the path. Persistence is the path. Endurance is the
path. Perseverance in every way for the sake of release is the path.
Once we have fully come into our own, the desire will disappear --
and at that point, who would ask after nibbana?

Once
the revolving wheel, the revolving mind has been smashed once and
for all, there is no one among any of those who have smashed that
revolving mind from their hearts who wants to go to nibbana
or who asks where nibbana lies. The word 'nibbana' is
simply a name, that's all. Once we have known and seen, once we have
attained the genuine article within ourselves, what is there to
question?

This is
what it means to develop the mind. We've developed it from the basic
stages to the ultimate stage of development. So. Now, no matter
where we live, we are sufficient unto ourselves. The mind has built
a full sufficiency for itself, so it can be at its ease anywhere at
all. If the body is ill -- aching, feverish, hungry, or thirsty --
we are aware of it simply as an affair of the body that lies under
the laws of inconstancy, stress, and lack of self. It's bound to
keep shifting and changing in line with its nature at all times --
but we're not deluded by it. The khandhas are khandhas.
The pure mind is a pure mind by its nature, with no need to force it
to know or to be deluded. Once it's fully true from every angle,
everything is true. We don't praise or criticize anything at all,
because each thing is its own separate reality -- so why is there
any reason to clash? If one side is true and the other isn't, that's
when things clash and fight all the time -- because one side is
genuine and the other side false. But when each has its own separate
reality, there's no problem.

Contemplate the mind so as to reach this stage, the stage where each
thing has its own separate reality. Yatha-bhuta-˝ana-dassana:
the knowledge and vision of things as they are. The mind knows and
sees things as they are, within and without, through and through,
and then stays put with purity. If you were to say that it stays
put, it stays put with purity. Whatever it thinks, it simply thinks.
All the khandhas are khandhas pure and simple, without
a single defilement to order their thinking, labeling, and
interpreting any more. There are simply the khandhas pure and
simple -- the khandhas without defilements, or in other
words, the khandhas of an arahant, of one who is free from
defilement like the Lord Buddha and all his Noble Disciples. The
body is simply a body. Feelings, labels, thought-formations, and
cognizance are each simply passing conditions that we use until
their time is up. When they no longer have the strength to keep
going, we let them go in line with their reality. But as for the
utterly true nature of our purity, there is no problem at all...

...Those who have reached full release from conventional realities
of every sort, you know, don't assume themselves to be more special
or worse than anyone else. For this reason, they don't demean even
the tiniest of creatures. They regard them all as friends in
suffering, birth, aging, illness, and death, because the Dhamma is
something tender and gentle. Any mind in which it is found is
completely gentle and can sympathize with every grain of sand, with
living beings of every sort. There's nothing rigid or unyielding
about it. Only the defilements are rigid and unyielding. Proud.
Conceited. Haughty and vain. Once there's Dhamma, there are none of
these things. There's only the unvarying gentleness and tenderness
of mercy and benevolence for the world at all times.

Anagami: Non-returner. A person who has abandoned the five lower
fetters that bind the mind to the cycle of rebirth (see sanyojana),
and who after death will appear in one of the Brahma worlds called
the Pure Abodes, there to attain nibbana, never again to
return to this world.

Anatta: Not-self; ownerless.

Anicca: Inconstant; unsteady; impermanent.

Anupadisesa-nibbana:Nibbana with no fuel remaining (the
analogy is to an extinguished fire whose embers are cold) -- the
nibbana of the arahant after his passing away.

Arahant: A person who has abandoned all ten of the fetters that
bind the mind to the cycle of rebirth (see sanyojana), whose
heart is free of mental effluents (see asava), and who is
thus not destined for future rebirth. An epithet for the Buddha and
the highest level of his Noble Disciples.

Ariya-sacca: Noble Truth. The word 'ariya' (noble) can
also mean ideal or standard, and in this context means 'objective'
or 'universal' truth. There are four: stress, the origin of stress,
the disbanding of stress, and the path of practice leading to the
disbanding of stress.

Bodhi-pakkhiya-dhamma:
'Wings to Awakening' -- seven sets of principles that are conducive
to Awakening and that, according to the Buddha, form the heart of
his teaching: [1] the four frames of reference (see satipatthana);
[2] four right exertions (sammappadhana) -- the effort to
prevent evil from arising in the mind, to abandon whatever evil has
already arisen, to give rise to the good, and to maintain the good
that has arisen; [3] four bases of success (iddhipada) --
desire, persistence, intentness, circumspection; [4] five dominant
factors (indriya) -- conviction, persistence, mindfulness,
concentration, discernment; [5] five strengths (bala) --
identical with [4]; [6] seven factors for Awakening (bojjhanga)
-- mindfulness, investigation of phenomena, persistence, rapture,
serenity, concentration, equanimity; and [7] the eightfold path (magga)
-- Right View, Right Attitude, Right Speech, Right Activity, Right
Livelihoood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, Right Concentration.

Brahma: 'Great One' -- an inhabitant of the heavens of form or
formlessness.

Buddho (buddha): Awake; enlightened.

Deva:
'Shining One' -- an inhabitant of the heavens of sensual bliss.

Devadatta: A cousin of the Buddha who tried to effect a schism
in the Sangha and who has since become emblematic for all Buddhists
who work knowingly or unknowingly to undermine the religion from
within.

Dhamma (dharma): Phenomenon; event; the way things are in and of
themselves; their inherent qualities; the basic principles that
underlie their behavior. Also, principles of behavior that human
beings ought to follow so as to fit in with the right natural order
of things; qualities of mind they should develop so as to realize
the inherent quality of the mind in and of itself. By extension,
'Dhamma' is used also to refer to any doctrine that teaches such
things. Thus the Dhamma of the Buddha refers both to his teachings
and to the direct experience of nibbana, the quality to which
those teachings point.

Dhatu: Property; element; impersonal condition. The four
physical properties or elements are earth (solidity), water
(liquidity), wind (motion), and fire (heat). The six properties
include the above four plus space and cognizance.

Dhutanga: Ascetic practices that monks may choose to undertake
if and when they see fitting. There are thirteen, and they include,
in addition to the practices mentioned in the body of this book, the
practice of using only one set of three robes, the practice of not
by-passing any donors on one's alms path, the practice of eating no
more than one meal a day, and the practice of living under the open
sky.

Dukkha: Stress; suffering; pain; distress; discontent.

Evam:
Thus; in this way. This term is used in Thailand as a formal closing
to a sermon.

Kamma (karma): Intentional acts that result in becoming and
birth.

Khandha: Heap; group; aggregate. Physical and mental components
of the personality and of sensory experience in general (see rupa,vedana,sa˝˝a,sankhara, and vi˝˝ana).

Magga: Path. Specifically, the path to the disbanding of stress.
The four transcendent paths -- or rather, one path with four levels
of refinement -- are the path to stream-entry (entering the stream
to nibbana, which ensures that one will be reborn at most
only seven more times), the path to once-returning, the path to
non-returning, and the path to arahantship.

Majjhima: Middle; appropriate; just right.

Nibbana (nirvana): Liberation; the unbinding of the mind from
mental effluents, defilements, and the fetters that bind it to the
round of rebirth (see asava,kilesa, and sanyojana).
As this term is used to refer also to the extinguishing of fire, it
carries the connotations of stilling, cooling, and peace. (According
to the physics taught at the time of the Buddha, a burning fire
seizes or adheres to its fuel; when extinguished, it is unbound.)

Phala: Fruition. Specifically, the fruition of any of the four
transcendent paths (see magga).

Rupa:
Body; physical phenomenon; sense datum.

Sabhava
dhamma:
Condition of nature; any phenomenon, event, property, or quality as
experienced directly in and of itself.

Sakidagami: Once-returner. A person who has abandoned the first
three of the fetters that bind the mind to the cycle of rebirth (see
sanyojana), has weakened the fetters of sensual passion and
irritation, and who after death is destined to be reborn in this
world only once more.

Sakya-putta: Son of the Sakyan. An epithet for Buddhist monks,
the Buddha having been a native of the Sakyan Republic.

Sallekha-dhamma: Topic of effacement (effacing defilement) --
having few wants, being content with what one has, seclusion,
uninvolvement in companionship, persistence, virtue, concentration,
discernment, release, and the direct knowing and seeing of release.

Samadhi: Concentration; the practice of centering the mind in a
single sensation or preoccupation.

Sammati: Conventional reality; convention; relative truth;
anything conjured into being by the mind.

Sangha: The community of the Buddha's disciples. On the
conventional level, this refers to the Buddhist monkhood. On the
ideal level, it refers to those of the Buddha's followers, whether
lay or ordained, who have attained at least the first of the
transcendent paths (see magga) culminating in nibbana.

Satipatthana:
Frame of reference; foundation of mindfulness -- body, feelings,
mind, and phenomena, viewed in and of themselves as they occur.

Sotapanna: Stream winner. A person who has abandoned the first
three of the fetters that bind the mind to the cycle of rebirth (see
sanyojana) and has thus entered the 'stream' flowing
inexorably to nibbana, which ensures that one will be reborn
at most only seven more times.

Tanha: Craving -- the cause of stress -- which takes three
forms: craving for sensuality, for becoming, and for no becoming.

Tapas: The purifying 'heat' of meditative practice.

Tathagata: One who has become true. A title for the Buddha.

Ti-lakkhana:
Three characteristics inherent in all conditioned phenomena -- being
inconstant, stressful, and not-self.

Ugghatita˝˝u: Of swift understanding. After the Buddha attained
Awakening and was considering whether or not to teach the Dhamma, he
perceived that there were four categories of beings: those of swift
understanding, who would gain Awakening after a short explanation of
the Dhamma, those who would gain Awakening only after a lengthy
explanation (vipacita˝˝u); those who would gain Awakening
only after being led through the practice (neyya); and those
who, instead of gaining Awakening, would at best gain only a verbal
understanding of the Dhamma (padaparama).

Vassa: Rains Retreat. A period from July to October,
corresponding roughly to the rainy season, in which each monk is
required to live settled in a single place and not wander freely
about.

Vatta: The cycle of death and rebirth. This refers both to the
death and rebirth of living beings and to the death and rebirth of
defilement in the mind.

Vinaya: The disciplinary rules of the monastic order. The
Buddha's own name for the religion he founded was 'this dhamma-vinaya'
-- this doctrine and discipline.

Vi˝˝ana:
Cognizance; consciousness; sensory awareness.

Vipassana: Clear intuitive insight into physical and mental
phenomena as they arise and disappear, seeing them as they are in
terms of the three characteristics and the four Noble Truths (see
ti-lakkhana and ariya-sacca).

If
anything in this translation is inaccurate or misleading, I ask
forgiveness of the author and reader for having unwittingly stood in
their way. As for whatever may be accurate, I hope the reader will
make the best use of it, translating it a few steps further, into
the heart, so as to attain the truth to which it points.